If holidays are supposed to be about getting away from it all, why did I spend mine worrying?

I’d pay a massive supplement for any resort that could turn me into the type of person who doesn’t flinch when offered a massage. Until then, being truly carefree feels out of reach

Imagine lolling around on a sun lounger without totting up how much you’ve spent at the beach bar (Getty)

I have been away. Well, I have spent a week with my trotters up on a Greek island trying to justify doing sod all whilst not even getting a tan.

I think if you at least go brown whilst doing nothing, then you’ve got something to show for your weeks idling – your body turns into a kind of holiday trophy. But if, like me, you turn from pale grey to a kind of burnt mauve, it makes everything trickier.

I can’t stop myself from worrying whether I deserve this break, and can I really afford it? What if drinking at lunchtime turns into a habit and I start swigging lager while listening to the News at One? What will happen if I never stop going back to the breakfast buffet – and why do my teeth hurt?