In the 1980s, a friend of my father navigated through Europe in a camper van with his family using only the map in the back of a pocket diary. He crossed France believing “aujourd’hui” meant “please”; you can imagine the reception he got from Parisians asking for “coffee, today”.

I keep thinking about this as I try but fail to plan my own family trip, despite all the 2026 resources at my disposal. We’re going to Japan for a fortnight in September and preparations have stalled: I’m dithering and my husband is exasperated and panicking, insisting we “get organised” and “just book something”. If it were up to him, he’d Google “two weeks Japan” and go for what the internet disgorges with zero agonising (he chooses restaurants by searching Google Maps for wherever’s nearby with a score above 4).

Either you won’t see any problem with that or, like me, you’re convulsed with horror at his cavalier nonchalance. I think most relationships have one laid-back traveller, and one who overthinks to the nth degree, weighing up every option,........

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