Is it just ME?

Or is there nothing better than a staycation?

EVERY year, millions of us are hypnotised into believing that a ‘real’ summer holiday must be one taken abroad. Unless we’ve toasted our skin in Turkey, got heat rash in Spain, been bitten by 1,000 mosquitoes in Italy, or had food poisoning in France, we feel hard done by.

So powerful is this mass delusion that many of us pour hundreds — if not thousands — of pounds into the pockets of airlines and rental companies.

For years, in the pursuit of Mediterranean or American sunshine, we drag our kids onto delayed planes, stinking ferries and hot cars and into rented rooms or holiday homes with terrible TV, lumpy beds and packed beaches. It’s all massively stressful and, by the end, we’d need a holiday to get over our holiday.

We used to do the same, until one year, I got cancer. While I lay in bed having hospital treatment, my husband took the kids and dog to the West Country for their summer break.

Suddenly, all the things they yearned for — huge, sandy beaches, fresh fish, good TV, flowery meadows and none of the pestilence of abroad — was there, in unblighted Blighty. We’ve never looked back. With the pound down, and Europe more expensive as a result, this can seem like making a virtue out of necessity. But I do believe we need to think again about exploring the beauty of our own country.

Our beaches are less busy and, if you avoid the kind of pub that serves frozen chips, then British food (and drink) is fabulous. Travel abroad narrows the mind — but travel at home broadens it.

AmAndA’s new novel, The Lie Of The Land, is published by Little, Brown at £16.99

Delayed planes. Hot cars. Lumpy beds. By the end, we’d need a holiday to get over our holiday