I do remember the old days – before we went to the new churches of shopping, namely the malls and garden centres. I actually remember going to real Churches as a child. Then Sundays would drag on forever. Nothing to do but wait for the Top Twenty on the radio. When that was over the evening would drag on interminably until bedtime and the new week ahead.

Today, Caledonian McBrain were due to start their Sunday ferry services to the islands of Lewis and Harris, upsetting the old Calvanist order of boring Sundays, where even the playground swings used to be chained up for fear of some small child enjoying themselves on the Sabbath.

But are we any better off in our 24/7 world? Do we need a moment of rest – of peaceful contemplation? I think Sunday should at least be a day free from daytime cash-in-the-attic-flog-my-auction programmes. But then, when I think about it, the grandaddy of them all, namely Antiques Roadshow, was a Sunday Programme. So maybe there is no hope for us at all. No peace for the wicked, eh?