Beach

A week, at least, somewhere hot with clear water. You want a small place close to the sand, a balcony with a view of the horizon, and nothing on the agenda except swimming, reading and eating.

Your days are slow. A swim before breakfast with salt still on your skin. Coffee on the terrace. Late morning on the beach with a book you finish. Lunch is grilled fish under a parasol. The afternoon is for a nap, a swim, another swim. In the evening you walk barefoot along the shore and eat somewhere you can hear the waves. You stop thinking in hours on the second day, and by the fourth you have forgotten what day it is, and that is the whole point.

You plan the place, not the days. You spend more time choosing the beach than anything else, and you check the sea temperature in a way you would never check the weather at home.

Packing is almost nothing. Two swimsuits, a sarong, a hat, sun cream and a couple of things to wear to dinner. A book or three, a towel you love and sandals that can get wet. You probably forgot a hairbrush and you will not miss it. A snorkel might come along. You arrive with a light bag and leave with sand in it, along with a shell or two that will sit on your windowsill for a year reminding you to book the next one.

Whoever will get in the water. You want someone who does not need constant entertainment, who is happy to lie on a towel all morning and only speak to suggest a swim or lunch.

You love a group trip if everyone shares the rhythm. A long lunch with friends, a late swim, cards in the evening. You also love going with one person who reads as much as you. The person who will not work is the one who wants to do something every hour, or who sees a free afternoon as a waste. You need people who understand that lying very still near the sea is an activity, and quite a demanding one.

A city break in a heatwave, with four museums a day and a step count that would shame a postman. Anything with an alarm clock. Anything with a coach at seven.

You would also hate a trip somewhere cold and grey where you need a coat to see the sea. Long drives between hotels, where you never unpack properly, make you tense. So does a holiday with so many plans that you need a rest at the end of it. You go away to stop, not to collect experiences. If you come home more tired than when you left, the holiday has failed, and you will tell everyone so.

Choose somewhere with more than one beach, so you can explore a little each day without ever really trying. Walking to a new cove is the perfect amount of effort.

Add one adventure: a boat trip, a snorkel over a reef, a sunrise swim, a dinner in the nearest old town. It gives the trip a story without breaking the rhythm. Eat where the locals eat, at least once. Leave your phone in the room for a whole day. Then, when you get home, keep the feeling going: a weekend swim, an hour in the sun with a book, a dinner outside. The beach is a place, but it is also a state of mind, and you know how to get there better than anyone.