Bringing it back... Holiday brochures

January was the month my Mum used to come home with holiday brochures. Not just two or three, but one of each. They were free, you see, and that gave them an edge. They were acknowldged as intrinsically trustworthy. As reliable as the North star or Greenwich Mean Time. Smiles were real - not a cloud in sight.

There were no reviews, no marks-out-of-ten. All the parents seemed to get on and Kids appeared to exist in a permanently airborne state. The entire 109 pages of fun and sun was supremely un-touched by disappointment. No-one ever cried, and no-one needed the toilet.

It was best to look at them all spread out on the floor and with a slightly critical eye. As a family, even with both my folks working, we didn't go on foreign holidays. We didn't have the money. But that was fine and us 3 kids fully accepted that. But that fact alone added even more scope for discernment. There was me, weighing up the 5-star "Playa del Mar" - where we couldn't afford to spend a Saturday afternoon, let alone 2 weeks - concluding "I think the pool is on the small size, to be honest.." Listen.. when you weren't actually going, you could be a bit picky. January was not a month for going anywhere, it was the month when you decided where you fancied going.

Vanessa and I still do this.. with barely the funds to possibly put down the deposit on a two bedroom French barn conversion, we regularly (and very assuredly) go and view 15th/16th century French Châteaux with vast staircases and monumental, original fireplaces - on 100 acres, bien sûr - only to get into the car and say how much we really disliked the kitchen. The democracy of participation asks not for "proof of funds". At least, not according to us.

Around the glossy vacation brochures, we each spoke with authority, but with absolutely no experience. Seasoned travel experts, in childrens bodies. We didn't need to check on things that much. As long as the sea was always be the same blue. A very specific, dependable blue. We generally agreed that 4-stars was actually very much enough. 5 Stars felt pushy and performative and 3...well, is that really us?

We were definitely a 4-star family - if only in spirit.

There was nothing even close to TripAdvisor back then. We had only just gotten a colour TV. But we were trusting of things. There was absolute confidence, in the undisputable fact that the people in the pictures - real people, who could easily have lived down our street - were genuinely very happy with their choices. Otherwise, why would they be grinning like that? You don't look that happy if you would rather be at the hotel next door.

The brochures would easily outlast the Winter, and even when the day arrived where they had been tidied up and thrown out, we felt we had conducted a thorough, deep dive into the summer holiday landscape. In our minds, we had reviewed, booked and really enoyed the break.

Now, of course, we research everything. We compare. We cross-reference. Is it accurate? What evidence exists for us to doubt this experience? We look for authenticity and proof. What is there to do there? Will it be fun enough, or exclusive enough?. We chase five stars and still worry we’ve missed something. We know more, but we seem less certain of anything - less than we have ever been - especially that area of naked, innocent "possibility".

Four stars was plenty.

Maybe it still is.