Fresh back from a half term mini break and my inner grump has been joyfully unleashed. I am at an age when full volume rant mode is an indicator that I am refreshed and raring to go – or just even more opinionated than usual. All is well.

In truth, I am always opinionated but on holiday – lolling about, drinking coffee and people-watching – I find more opportunity to let these opinions leak out. A sample of pet peeves expressed during a mini-break in Yorkshire includes:

• People taking their dogs shopping during a heatwave while remaining glued to their mobile phone and ignoring their pet – the equivalent of a police stinger as they wipe out other shoppers with the dog lead while meandering across narrow pavements and totally ignoring any shops.
• Service stations. Enough said. (Gloucester Services is the exception, but do not get me started on their prices).

My grumpiness can be attributed not only to some down time but also because I still refuse to give in to a running injury and so have enjoyed God’s Own Country in Mediterranean temperatures with a pronounced limp and derisory Strava stats. Against this context I feel I can justifiably grump vocally about the overuse of the word ‘wellness’.

The buzz-word ‘Wellness’ is suddenly appearing everywhere. While I limp behind Himself in Knaresborough, we notice a sign boasting a ‘Leisure and Wellness Centre’. Reader, it was a Sports Centre with a freshly painted sign and even the word ‘Leisure’ could be challenged under Advertising Standards – surely you are meant to kick a leisurely attitude into touch and work up a sweat if you frequent such a venue?

We limp past a cafe in York offering a ‘Wellness Afternoon Tea’. I am so grumpy about this that I march (lobsidedly) into Betty’s and leave with a box of their finest ‘Fat Rascals’ in a nod of defiance. I then eat too many of these gorgeous symbols of rebellion and moan all evening about a sense of illness in my distended belly.

Returning home and luxuriating in a wellness coffee break with a friend, she tells me that every meeting at her workplace now begins with a ‘wellness check in’. Her line manager was a little disgruntled last week when my friend responded to the question, ‘How is your wellbeing?’ with , ‘Actually I am really pissed off and would like to get a few things off my chest’. Apparently holistic etiquette requires you to respond to a wellbeing check in with, ‘I am good, thanks’.

Planning my next mini break I then overhear someone in the local Information Centre asking where the best poppy fields are as she and her friend want to book in a wellness afternoon. I realise I am blessed living in a semi rural area, but feel old and grumpy enough to wonder whether their wellbeing may be better improved by displaying curiosity and just going for a country walk rather than finding a fully curated and insta-friendly poppy tour. (Now that I read those lines back, I am grateful that I kept this grumpy thought to myself at the time – I could have ruined my karma with toxicity).

Reflecting on whether I am starting to sound like a much older person than I like to see in the mirror, I ask Himself if I have turned into a bad tempered old whinge. I can see him thinking carefully about how best to respond while keeping our relationship on solid ground. ‘I think it is good for you to have a break from positivity,’ he replies diplomatically. He has just been watching a Tik Tok of ‘The GC’ after hearing from his son about Gemma Collin’s new advisory role to the Education Department. ‘You have been discussing your retirement, ‘ he continues, ‘and if The GC can advise students to, ‘go to school honeys and have a fabulous day’, you could be the grumpy old lady antidote – The GC – The Grumpy Crank – , ‘go to school whinge bags, sit your exams and let your parents reclaim their wellness’. You would either go viral, or kick touch your retirement – or both. It could be a holistic win’.

I think it may be time to keep my thoughts to myself again and get back to work. It may not be good for my health to be too expressive for long periods of time. Himself reminds me that I am at an age when I always feel better for a coffee and a National Trust garden and he knows a great one with a poppy plant – maybe even a dragonfly. ‘I promise to take your photo’. All will be well.