Thursday 27th February 2025, 15.35: 

I’ve just claimed my weekly free sausage roll from Greggs (thanks Monzo Max), along with a large skinny latte from Costa (which I unfortunately had to pay for), at Woolley Edge Services on the M1. I don’t think I’ve ever been to this services before, but it seemed reasonable – nothing special, but it did the job. Do you have a favourite service station? I’m not sure what mine would be. 

My good friend Adam East is currently driving us to York, where we’re staying for the evening, before we head on to Whitby tomorrow, where we’re staying for the weekend and will be joined by Samuel Morris, Thomas Brooks, Eleanor Wright, Kiera Kavanagh, Harry Beard and Charlie Beard. I’ll be honest, it’s not the greatest invite list I’ve ever put together, but needs must as you get older and people get busier. 

We’ve hired a stunning house with a cinema room, games room and jacuzzi. Nominally, the reason for our getaway is to celebrate my 26th birthday on Sunday, but between you and I, it’s just an excuse to see Tom Brooks strip to his speedos after 14 pints of carling. I’m already excited at the thought.

So here we are – another Harold holiday blog. Strap in. H x

Thursday 27th February 2025, 21.15: 

So, Harold, I hear you ask – what does the modern you look like? Well dear friend, allow me to tell you. 

Adam and I have had a lovely evening in York. We started in a few different pubs for a few pints, in the second one of which Adam won £80 on the fruit machine off of £20 that I LENT TO HIM, whilst I won FUCK ALL, so that was something of a sore note. Nevertheless, we ventured on from there to The York Roast Co., where I finally tried one of these Yorkshire Pudding Wraps that everyone has been raving about, and I must admit, it was bloody delicious. From there, on to Roxy Ballroom, where we played Shuffleboard (I lost) and then had a go in the batting cages (where I also lost, although I did hit a few sixes). All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable evening. 

But Harold, I hear you ask, it’s only quarter past nine – why are you writing your blog entry now? Well dear friend, allow me to answer that one too. 

I’m in my hotel room, lying on my bed, listening to Radio 3, having just made myself a cup of tea (the rhyme was accidental, I promise). I had a lovely time out, but quite frankly, being out until silly o’clock getting rat arsed doesn’t interest me anymore. I’ve had my fun, but I’m quite happy nowadays to come back, have a cup of tea and read my book until I feel like nodding off. 

Jesus, you can tell I’m 26 on Sunday, can’t you? Do you know what, though? I don’t care. In fact, I’d struggle to design a more enjoyable night than spending a few hours with a good friend of mine exploring a wonderful city, before retiring to my room to read and listen to classical music. 

I know what you’re thinking, and believe me, so am I – what the fuck happened? Life happened, my friend, and I’m pretty bloody glad it did. 

Let’s catch up tomorrow. H x

Friday 28th February 2025, 08.30: 

I’m sitting in the most adorable little cafe I’ve ever seen with a black coffee and a chocolate croissant. It’s called vi coffee + wine (you can tell it’s got vibes because it’s name has no caps) and I’m just obsessed, it’s the kind of place I’d come to every morning if I lived in York, which the last 18 hours are kind of making me wish I did. Can you really beat South Derbyshire though? Yes, probably. 

Oh my god a woman has just brought a dog in with her and the cafe owner knows the dog by name!!! Ultimate vibe check passed. 

Anyway, Adam has gone to the gym this morning, and whilst I admire the dedication, I politely declined his invitation to join him. Instead, I’m going to have a wander around the city and frequent every charity shop I can find, because York is the exact kind of city where you find those hidden charity shop gems. There’s also a couple of art galleries I want to pop into, one of which had an absolutely stunning piece on display in the window, which I may have to enquire about.

Has anyone got a few grand they could lend me? It’s for something really important. No? Fine. Selfish. H x

Friday 28th February 2025, 11.15: 

I’m sitting in a cafe again! I’m in 200 Degrees, having ordered a cup of tea and a sausage roll. I’m in much the same mood I was in earlier this morning, which is a fantastic one, except the only difference is that I’ve spent roughly one thousand pounds in the last 3 hours. 

Harold, I hear you ask – how the fuck have you managed that? Even for you, I hear you say, that is absolutely ridiculous. Well, dear reader, if I were to tell you that 200 Degrees is directly opposite the York Fine Art Gallery, would that answer your question? Well, knowing how slow some of you are, probably not, so let me make it explicit – I may have accidentally spent £795 on “Cafe Lunch” by Mike Hall, a beautiful original piece that will now take pride of place on my wall. Give it a Google, it’s a beautiful painting. 

I’ve also bought some books, a few new tops, a few posters, some coasters with sausage dogs on them (obviously), and a smaller framed print from the same gallery. 

Now, I’ll leave you to digest my incredible self-largesse whilst I enjoy my sausage roll. Cheerio. H x

Friday 28th February 2025, 13.50: 

Adam and I have arrived safely in Whitby! I’ve just had a Harissa Chicken flatbread from the Pescado Lounge, which was delectable. Sam rang us whilst we were driving to confirm that he too is en route, which is a shame really – I was hoping he’d cancel at the last minute. Oh well, I can’t have everything! 

I’ll catch up with you properly later on. H x

Friday 28th February 2025, 17.20: 

The house is absolutely insane. It’s four stories, with views over the rolling countryside hills of Yorkshire from the back garden, where the hot tub is located. My room is located on the top floor, with a balcony which again looks out onto the countryside. In the basement there’s the games room, with a pool table, where Adam and Tom have already situated themselves, and the cinema room, where I have already situated myself, with Sky Sports Golf on the screen and a glass of Sauvignon in my hand. 

Sam has smuggled his dog in, despite it clearly saying no pets on the website. When I say smuggled, I mean he literally wrapped her in a blanket and ran into the house with her like she was some sort of stolen goods, and I quote, “just incase there are cameras or they’re watching the house somehow”. You’re not a fucking Bond villain, Samuel. 

Kiera and Elleanor are currently blowing up balloons and putting up banners for my birthday, which is very sweet. I think the boys are going out and the girls are staying in, although hopefully they occupy themselves as I’d quite like to watch the UK Open – Littler is on at 8pm you know! Unfortunately, it looks as though Harry and Charlie can’t make it, which is an awful shame – their friendships shall be swiftly terminated upon my return to the shire. 

Speak soon. H x

Saturday 1st March 2025, 11.20: 

Well, you’ll be delighted to know that I feel absolutely right as rain. I’m currently sitting at the dining room table, which sits sort of in between the upstairs living room and the kitchen, so this is what I can currently see – Kiera and Elleanor are wrapped in blankets on the sofa watching Desperate Housewives and trying not to be sick, whilst Sam is hoovering the kitchen floor and shouting at Adam and Tom as they try (and fail) to figure out how to make a poached egg. It’s just another day in paradise. 

Last night was fun, or at least I think it was. The lads went out to the pubs in Whitby, which left me with the girls, so naturally I left the girls upstairs and retreated to the cinema room to watch the darts and play some Grand Theft Auto. Once the gents were back, we all played lots of drinking games and had lots of arguments, so pretty much the usual really. 

I think the highlight of my night was when Sam accidentally punched me in the balls, which caused me to storm off, which then caused him to chase after me apologising and professing his undying love for me (this is genuinely not an over-exaggeration). I think the thing I love most about the friendship between myself and Sam is that it makes absolutely no fucking sense and almost always seems to be on the verge of an abrupt end, yet somehow it’s the longest and most successful friendship I’ve ever had. Life truly is a wonderful thing. 

Allow me to give you an idea of the drinking games we were playing. One is called Quiplash, where you all get two prompts on your phone, which you have to answer as funnily as you can, before they are then revealed to the group and people vote for their favourites. I’ll give you an example – the prompt was “Something that would make an awful hat” and the two responses given were “Harry’s bald spot” and “Harry is fat”, so as you can see, we keep it incredibly highbrow and witty. 

Anyway, at around midnight, Sam had the genius idea of getting everyone in the hot tub, despite there being a huge sign on the wall that says “NO NOISE OUTSIDE AFTER 10PM”, so it was at that point I decided to retire to my room. I listened to an audiobook for a while, pondering the poor life choices that have led me to this weekend, before falling asleep with my noise-cancelling headphones on (and thank fuck I brought them, is all I can say). 

Today, everyone else feels (and looks) like shit, whilst I feel raring to go. I awoke at around 8.30am and spent a few hours in bed reading and playing Chess, before showering and coming downstairs, to find five barely functioning adults bickering and attempting to cook bacon. I think I should have just stayed upstairs. 

Speak to you later. H x

Saturday 1st March 2025, 18.50: 

Interestingly, I’m sitting in exactly the same spot that I was when I last wrote to you, the only difference this time being that I have a glass of Sauvignon next to me instead of a black coffee. It’s important to stay hydrated! 

Just after we last spoke, Sam announced that they were all going into Whitby, so I got somewhat excited that I was going to get a day to myself in the house. After they left, I made myself a lovely lunch and sat watching darts in the cinema room for a bit, before heading upstairs to do some reading. However, I was barely a page into my book before I received a text from Mr Morris – “can you come and get me, I’ve got bad guts”. I’ll be honest, I’ve definitely had more glamorous holidays. So off I went to collect the reprobates from Whitby, and instead of having an afternoon to myself, I spent it drinking Peroni and watching Soccer Saturday. Say what you will about me, but I am definitely versatile. In all fairness, upon his return from Whitby, Sam presented me with a birthday gift, which is a beautiful framed art print that he’d bought whilst wandering around the town – he knows what it takes to keep me sweet. 

I have spent the last hour in the hot tub with Sam, Tom and Elleanor, which was certainly an experience. If you have a kink for hairy fat men with disgusting feet, I’d definitely recommend spending some time in a hot tub with Tom. We discussed all sorts, ranging from my autism diagnosis, my dangerously high cholesterol levels, my bald spot, my obesity and my partiality to a Donner Kebab. Come to think of it, it wasn’t really a discussion, it was more just an hour of Tom Brooks calling me a fat spastic, but don’t worry, I haven’t taken it to heart – there’s pot calling the kettle black, and then there’s Tom Brooks calling somebody else a fat spastic. 

Right, my kebab should be here any minute, so I must dash. I’ll catch you later. H x

Sunday 2nd March 2025, 09.30: 

Good morning! I’m currently lying in bed, listening to Serenade for Strings in E Major, Op.22, B.52 by Antonin Dvorak, performed by the Prague Chamber Orchestra in 1991. I mean, start your 26th year as you mean to go on, right?

That’s right! It’s my birthday. I am twenty six years old, which is a strange feeling. It’s quite incredible to reflect on how much I have grown as a person in the past twelve months, and how much happier I am now. It wasn’t so long ago that the thought of growing older filled me with an existential dread so extreme that it was almost debilitating, yet now I look at the year in front of me with an almost childlike excitement. Life comes at you fast, doesn’t it? 

I was in bed by about half past ten last night, and I fell straight to sleep. I know! That makes me sound awfully boring, but I promise it wasn’t my fault – when I wandered into the living room to find all five of them lounging on the sofa watching the BRIT Awards, I decided I’d rather sleep than subject myself to such mundanity, and retired to my room accordingly. You can really tell that we’re getting old. 

I’m not sure what the plan is for today, or if we even have one, but right now I’m content listening to Dvorak. Speak soon. H x

Sunday 2nd March 2025, 12.50:

Well, we’ve just set off for the 3 hour car journey home. I can’t say that spending that amount of time trapped in a metal box with Sam Morris was how I ideally envisioned spending my birthday, but here we are. 

Sam and Elleanor were always planning to head home today anyway, but the general feeling of sogginess amongst the group means we’re all now heading home a day early. I can’t say I’m too fussed – the house was stunning and I enjoyed it, but by god, Whitby is fucking boring. I wouldn’t recommend. 

So, another Harold holiday blog is complete. I hope you enjoyed. H x