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L'Arrivée: Whisked Through, Then Made to Wait

We were greeted before security had even finished pretending to be difficult, our concierge sweeping us through in proper VIP style, past every queue and straight to the waiting car. After eight hours in the air this counts as a mercy rather than a luxury.

A lovely Antiguan lady then drove us to our villa, chatting away as though we were old friends rather than jet-lagged strangers.

Deep Bay: The Best Beach You Have Not Yet Been Told About

There is a particular kind of silence that only exists 250 miles south of Malé, past the last cluster of resorts your travel agent has heard of, in an atoll so remote that even the fish look faintly surprised to see you.

There is a particular difficulty in ending a successful story. Do too little and the finale feels like a cynical exercise in badges and scarcity. Do too much and the qualities that made the original so compelling can disappear beneath the additions.

Arrival in Poreč: Bentleys, Marble and a Very Good First Impression

There is a particular moment on any holiday when you know, with total certainty, that you are going to be fine. Mine came approximately eleven seconds after arriving at the Pical Resort, Valamar Collection in Poreč, when I clocked a Bentley Continental GT, a Ferrari and a Lamborghini Urus parked outside the entrance like a pair of expensive bookends. This, I thought, is no ordinary family resort. Quelle surprise.

The Penedès isn't a place that tries to announce itself to the world. It is a rather unassuming pocket of Spain that takes immense pride in its vineyards, Cavas and people. Heritage is a very important word here. It lies just an hour outside of Barcelona, so an easy day trip, or you can make the most of it and stay where we did. The beautiful and rustic Font De La Canya https://www.hotelfontdelacanya.com/en is a stone’s throw from many wineries.

A Car With a Serious Identity Crisis, and I Mean That as a Compliment

There is a precise moment, mid-manoeuvre in a strong crosswind on the surface of the Indian Ocean, when you understand exactly how a seaplane docks. It does not glide in serenely like a swan. It fights. Our pilot had the throttles open, one engine forward, the other thrown into reverse, the whole aircraft pivoting against the wind while we ran the length of a neighbouring island that was not even our destination.

Nobody at the Cure EB Silver Butterfly Dinner could tell me what I'd arrived in. Damian Lewis was there, the evening was compered with great charm by Dominic Holland — introduced everywhere, to his evident amusement, as Spider-Man's father — and DS had generously donated a week with the N°8 as a lot in the charity auction, which gives you some idea of the company it keeps. Yet the question I fielded most often that night concerned the long, low, faintly menacing machine parked outside. Nobody knew the badge. Everybody wanted one.

Quinze Ans de Grâce

Some evenings stay with you. Not because of the champagne — though the champagne was excellent — and not because of the company, though the company was as distinguished as any room in London. This evening stayed because of one young woman who stood up, sang like an angel, and reminded two hundred of the city's finest that there are more important things in this world than being important.

The marketing blurb of the Volkswagen Grand California promises freedom, flexibility and a ‘Teutonic’ level of competence – sounds lovely. But I think what it actually delivers over a four day trip from Hampshire to the Lakes and back was a family holiday with just enough chaos and adventure to be utterly memorable.