In 2017, we drove home from a nightmarish camping trip in Somerset with our children, thinking we would never go on holiday again. We were miserable and a bit beaten, battered by the meltdowns and the stress.
That night, we reminisced about the holidays we’d had when we were just a couple, such as the fortnight in a whitewashed cottage on Culatra, a Portuguese island in the Ria Formosa lagoon. As we looked at each other, I slowly began to wonder if it would be possible to return as a family.
