Last year, we opted for a fly-and-flop holiday on a beautiful Greek island – and the booking process was as chilled as the holiday. I clicked through the resort’s website and halfway through my morning coffee the holiday was totally sorted. Rooms, tick; activities, all included; restaurants, five on site. I didn’t have to give it another thought.

The holiday was gorgeous, but not an experience that broadened my kids’ horizons, so this year we decided to plan something slightly more cultural – a road trip from Vaucluse in Provence to Forte dei Marmi in Tuscany. Don’t get me wrong, the route is planned around beautiful poolside views and fabulous beaches, but there’s the opportunity for some cultural absorption along the way.

I say absorption because experience has taught me that nuggets of culture are best delivered to my children in the most subtle of ways. I know if I mention the word “gallery”, or – G-d forbid – “museum’, I’ll get three grumpy faces staring back at me. Like all good mothers needing to make themselves feel better about the hours their kids spend slumped in front of a screen, I have been known to take the “tough, you’ll thank me one day” approach. While forcing your kids to traipse around an architectural wonder can fill the soul with a marvellous sense of smugness (and if you manage to blur the frowns, make perfect pictures to send home to the grandparents), sometimes it’s just not worth the harrumphing that gets thrown back at you. But on this particular Franco-Italian escapade, the modus operandi will be to cleverly disguise mind-expanding opportunities as “fun”.

An e-bike ride through the hills of Provence. That’ll be a “yes thank you very much” from all three kids. Selfies in lavender fields for the girls. Something mildly motorised for the boy. (Not gender stereotyping here, of course, merely reflecting my own children’s coincidentally gender-normative preferences.) ]

So, no one will suspect a thing if I mention that those rolling lavender hills are the exact breathtaking views that inspired Cézanne and, if we happen to stumble across a beautiful jardin, which inspired some of his most famous work.

Similarly, who wouldn’t want a mooch around Saint-Paul-de-Vence’s cobbled streets, ice cream in hand. If we end up in the house where Chagall once lived, well that would just be a bon bonus.

Will these subtle brushes with the great artists count as culture? Well, if last year’s holiday got us nul points, this one will at least get us on the scoreboard.

While that is wonderful, or at least I hope it will be (I’m currently at packing stage but by the time you read this I should be a bottle of sun-cream and rosé down), it has taken a few more clicks to organise than last year’s Greek escape – several thousand more in fact.

Will this holiday be several thousand times better?

If there’s a blank space on this page in place of my next column, you’ll know it was… and I’ve upped sticks and moved to Rapallo. But even though I’m sure it will be utterly lovely, doing nothing on a Greek island was pretty lovely too.

Mediterranean gem: the Excelsior Palace Hotel in Rapallo, Italy

When it comes to holiday planning there’s a golden ratio of organisation to outcome, which I have been in danger of throwing off balance.

In truth, the best parts of any holiday are those unexpected moments… when Dad goes on the sofa ride and his trunks fly off, or when you realise the lilo is sinking because it has four extra passengers, or any of the silly stuff that happens when you’re not rushing in from school or work and then trying to get to the next activity on time.

I’m hoping cycling through lavender fields will be utterly memorable as will appreciating views that inspired Chagall.

But most importantly, let’s just hope the wind picks up and someone’s trunks fall down, because we all know that’s what really makes for a memorable trip.