Each year, we go on holiday with our dear friends Sarah and Chris and their three children. They are Astrid’s godparents – so part of our chosen family – and Astrid, eight, Xavi, six and Juno, two, refer to Owen, 10, Lowri, nine and Frankie, seven, as their cousin-friends. In any holidaying-with-friends situation there are clear winners and losers. Each year, I’m the winner – and Sarah and Chris, I’m afraid, lose out. Take booking: each year, we choose a Eurocamp site in France. When I say we, I mean that Sarah finds the best possible site, does all the admin involved and leaves me to pay a deposit. I tried to get involved two years ago and picked an overcrowded campsite that was less cabin-in-the-meadows, and more “the person-three-cabins-down-snores-at-night”. It was a relief all round when Sarah suggested somewhere for this May half term and, maybe made all the sweeter by last year’s experience, it was the best campsite yet. Then there are differences in our parenting. I learn so much from Sarah and Chris: their children are more independent, which is after all the point of parenting – along with love and security – largely because their parents know they can do more themselves. And it rubs off on my children.

Embrace the differences in parenting style

Our families take it in turns to cook dinner each evening and once we’ve eaten we sit out under the stars with no rush for bedtime. My children see there’s an expectation that everyone stays at the table until everyone’s finished eating – and join in chatting happily. This isn’t something that we’ve managed consistently at home, where they mainly see mealtimes as an interruption to games and are prone to running off to play as soon as they’ve bolted down their own food, but here they want to be with their friends. Astrid and Xavi see 10-year-old Owen barbecuing sausages, and start asking to get involved in the cooking when it’s our cabin’s turn to cook. And because Lowri and Frankie lay the table, on “our” nights Astrid and Xavi take on the mantle. The halo effect lasts for weeks afterwards. I sincerely hope the inverse doesn’t happen in their home. Sarah says that I’m a softie and wonders if this stems from the fact that for a long time, I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to become a parent. “Our kids just sort of came along,” she tells me. “You went through fertility treatment and heartbreak and that means you really mean it when you have a baby. I suspect that makes you more tolerant of the idiotic and infuriating realities of parenthood. I don’t think there’s a gap in our parenting. I approach it from the ‘in the event of a crash secure your own oxygen supply first’ perspective – mum and dad need to be ok or we’re all screwed.” I hadn’t considered it before, but I suspect she’s right. Spending the week laughing with friends I’ve known for more than two decades is wonderfully good for my soul. And we all love watching the firm friendships between the children, who absolutely adore each other and relish the freedom that a campsite offers.

Separate cabins are a must

The key to us holidaying together, beyond the love we share for each other, is separate cabins. Sarah and Chris are inherently tidier and more organised than I am – I often admire their clean floors that I struggle to recreate however much I sweep. If we were in a shared cabin for 10, I’d feel pressure to try to be someone I’m not and spend all my time failing to tidy up to their standards. And while they might be too kind to say it, I’m sure they’d find the slight clutter that seems to surround me even in a holiday home a little irritating. (Photo: Getty)

Set some boundaries – and communicate

Kate also recommends communicating clearly what is and isn’t working early on. She opens conversations by asking other families what works for them – and being open to compromise. This doesn’t mean all children should live the same: if adults are mindful, then other children can indulge subtly on more treat foods or later bedtimes. “Don’t let things fester for an entire holiday or it can have negative consequences on the friendship,” she believes.

Prioritise time for the adults to relax

Emma McCaffrey, founder of fitness company Move with Emma, recommends holidaying with friends who share a similar worldview, and choosing a holiday that gives adults time to relax. “My daughter and I go with a friend I’ve known since school and her daughter on all inclusive holidays, so I get a break from housework too,” she explains. “I tried going away with friends to a static home in south-west France, but unless you’re in a big group then there’s still so much cleaning and cooking that for the adults it’s more intense than being at home.” Anna finds holidaying with friends a lot easier than when she tried a trip with her two sons, her now ex-boyfriend, who she’d been with for three years, and his son. “Our time together at home was mainly without our children, because we both co-parent with our ex-partners, though we were very fond of each other’s children,” she explains. “But in a confined space on holiday, with none of our usual routines, we realised just how differently we parent. He felt I was always taking my kids’ side when there were squabbles between all the boys. Without a doubt, holidaying together was one of the factors in us breaking up.” (Photo: Anastasiia Krivenok/Getty)

Help out – in your own way

Most important when holidaying with friends, though, is to be appreciative of the different holiday skills each person brings, whether it’s planning and organising, looking after all the children or whipping up delicious food. “As a single parent it takes a special couple to agree to go on holiday as no matter how hard I try I can’t do the work of two people,” Kate says. “I like to think I thank people for how they help.” After all, if you’re a winner in the shared holiday stakes, it’s gracious to acknowledge it. (Photo: CSA-Images/Getty/Vetta)