I'm a relatively simple man.

Give me a bit of sun. A few decent waves. Somewhere to sit that isn't actively trying to ruin my day. That's pretty much the whole list.

But there's one thing I genuinely can't handle, and that's discomfort. Not pain. Not adventure-pain, the good kind, the kind you earn on a hike or chasing the kids down a hill. I'm talking about the low-grade, grit-in-your-teeth, why-am-I-doing-this-to-myself kind of discomfort that sneaks up on you when you're meant to be enjoying yourself.

Which brings me to the beach.

On paper, I like the beach. Sun's nice. Waves are nice. Kids running around with that wild salty hair, the whole thing. At points, I really do have a lovely time.

But you will not catch me lying on a blanket on the ground.

I don't know who decided this was the move. A thin scrap of cotton between you and a layer of grit that will follow you home, into the car, into the shower, into bed three days later. Sand in the sandwiches. Sand in the suncream. Sand somehow inside a sealed water bottle. A towel that becomes its own ecosystem by lunchtime.

Give me a chair. Give me a shaded patch of grass above the beach. Give me a cafรฉ with a view of the sea and I am the happiest man in the place. I'll go in the water. I'll build the castle. I'll do the whole performance. I just want to come back to something that isn't the actual ground.

So here's the system. The very first stop on any trip, if there's a beach involved, is the local IKEA. I will have a chair. And honestly, when you compare it to the 15 euro a day they want for a chaise on the sand, it makes perfect sense. Buy once, sit forever. Or at least sit for a week, and then leave it behind for the next guest of the apartment to inherit. A little gift from me to them.

The maths checks out:

(cost of IKEA chair รท comparable beach chaise rental)
ร— grains of sand I'll find in my crevices later
+ hours in the sun
โˆ’ hours hunting for shells
รท pages of book read (always zero)

Divide by zero and the whole thing tends to infinity, which is exactly how good a holiday it is.

Jo finds this very funny. The kids haven't noticed yet, because they are still at the age where the ground is a friend. Give them time.

I think this is the trick to travelling with a family, honestly. Know your one non-negotiable. Mine is a chair. Everything else, I can roll with.