Somewhere around the second night of a family villa holiday, someone always says it: “This was such a good idea.” It usually comes right after dinner, when the plates are still out, the kids have disappeared to whatever corner of the garden has the best hiding spots, and the grandparents have claimed the two comfiest chairs on the terrace without anyone quite noticing them do it. For about an hour, it genuinely does feel like the good idea everyone hoped it would be.

Then day four arrives. Someone’s tired. Someone else wanted to see the old town today, not sit by the pool again. The teenager hasn’t left their room since breakfast. And whoever organised the whole trip – because it’s always one person who organised the whole trip – is quietly wondering whether a family holiday spanning three generations was actually the good idea it seemed like back in

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