Holidays can turn BFFs into frenemies

IT’S so tempting. Whether you’re single, coupled up, or lumbered blessed with kids, going on holiday with friends seems like a brilliant idea. What could be more fun?

Unfortunately, life is more complicated than that, though. No matter how well you think you know someone and how much time you spend with them, you have absolutely no idea who they are when they’re away.

Being friends is easy – being holiday compatible is another thing entirely.

Worse still, even if you have the frankest, most detailed conversations in advance and think long and hard, it means nothing. The only way to know if you’re holiday compatible with someone is to go on holiday with them. And by then, obviously, it’s too late.

Little habits you never noticed before grate. You want to go Dutch, they want to go through the bill line by line working out exactly who had exactly what. They want to do and see things, you want to lie in the sun, or vice versa, or both at different times. Everything you understood to be true about the person you thought you were well acquainted with can change once they’re on holiday. It’s spooky.

The sad thing is that while you could easily forgive a disappointing night out, the stakes are impossibly high here.

Unless you’re the Rooneys or Myleene Klass, holidays are precious. You’ve saved up for ages and it’s long anticipated. A bad experience is hard to simply shake off and move on from.

And even if you think the holiday’s going great, and everyone’s getting along swimmingly, you still might be in trouble. There’s always a chance

are the awful one/s. you You just don’t know until you go away with some people who have liked you thus far.

Also – helpful hint here – along with the other potential pitfalls, another big holiday no-no is inflicting grievous bodily harm on the first day. Even if it’s accidental.

Last summer, we were away with friends – a couple we love, with a kid the same age (as ours, not them). We arrived, got out of the car, and the husband started screaming. At first, we all thought he was joking, but then it went on too long and, also, it wasn’t that funny. The screaming evolved into a terrifying, primal roar of agony.

Everyone who wasn’t screaming looked at each other in blind panic, rooted to the spot in fear. We just froze, scared and utterly confused.

I always thought I’d be good in a crisis, but turned out, not so much. None of us knew what to do about whatever was happening.

Are you getting a sense of us all standing there, shellshocked, doing nothing, for ages? Good. That’s how long Jim’s hand was shut in the car door for. By me. I still hear the noise he made in my head some nights. I think I will for ever, on some level.

We’re all still friends – somehow – although Jim’s obviously a little flinchy around me now, and I have to shout “clear!” like a defibrillator operator every time I close a door.

This year we’re going on holiday on our own, as punishment. Just the three of us.

Hopefully a similar number will come back but, with my record, there’s no guarantee.

You want to lie on the beach, they want to go out...