In recent weeknotes, I’d mentioned taking a break. That’s because our family for the first time in three years had a proper holiday. It was quite surreal actually leaving the UK once again.

But it was also sobering. This is the first time since Brexit I’d experienced a split queue at passport control. My wife and daughter, both with EEA passports, zoomed through the fast lane, while I waited in the queue specifically labelled for Brits, in a tiny airport. (I’m aware that in some cases, passport control allows families to go through together, but that seems pretty random. I erred on the side of caution.)

To the credit of the Spanish passport officers, they got the Brits through at speed. They were terrifyingly efficient. Even so, there was grumbling in the queue. “Why are we made to queue up?” moaned one person. Another offered: “Brexit. We’re not allowed through the fast queue now.” Rumbles of discontent followed, before one person piped up with: “I think it’s good. At least I get a stamp in my passport now”. Staggeringly, he wasn’t joking. He was proud. Fortunately, he appeared to be in a minority.

I reached the front, felt glum as my passport was stamped, said “gracias” and went to rejoin my family. In the grand scheme of things, this wasn’t important – spending an extra 15 minutes in a queue. Brexit has caused far worse problems. The world has far greater issues. But it was nonetheless a stark reminder of how the most stupid decision a country could possibly collectively make has ramifications that are both big and small.