There’s always one – or in this case, two – ready and able to top your best, most exciting ideas with bigger, better, more glamorous plans. Show-offs, I call them.

Spring is here. Meteorologically, at least. Thoughts are turning towards summer holidays and pressure is building. To splash out on foreign sunshine or budget with a staycation; that is the question – or one of them.

Then, just when you think you might be coming to a conclusion, up pops a couple with the ultimate big travel deal to make yours look decidedly and pathetically limp.

Deposit paid, calendar countdown underway, they’re going to the Moon. Beat that with your cosy Lake District cottage (hot tub included) for a wet fortnight in July. Nope. Can’t be done… or can it?

The travellers in question are, of course, American. And really, who could blame them for wanting to get as far away from home as possible at first available opportunity?

But the Moon? Are they on a different planet? Not yet – but they will be next year. Well, cruising around it anyway.

A US private rocket company called SpaceX has announced that two private citizens have paid to make the trip to Costa del Lunar in 2018, aboard a spaceship that has yet to make its first unmanned test flight. Risky or what? For goodness sake, they don’t even get to disembark to buy souvenirs.

Nasa space agency is reportedly helping out with the tourists’ holiday plans, which is just as well since Thomas Cook has been caught dragging its heels on this one.

Makes you wonder though, eh? Just how far do any of us need to go to recharge our jaded old batteries with an escape from hum-drum daily routine? And whether you’re furious to be losing the chance for a wild camping experience in the Trossachs or coppering up for a Bondi Beach barbecue, does any of us know how much and how far is enough in terms of a getaway?

Anne Pickles Holiday planning is a stressful business at the best of times. But in all seriousness, space travel? How hard does rest and relaxation need to be?

What do you pack for a Moon cruise? Will there be an on-board luggage limit, a grumpy stewardess serving overpriced snacks, options for extra leg room, duty free perfume? It’s a minefield baffling enough to make flying EasyJet look like a short hop on a bus to Silloth.

Some chums had planned to go to New York this summer, before the Trump thing happened. Now they’re all at sea. Another is in Sri Lanka, one more has just returned from India and a couple more – having dumped out of hopes for the South of France – are costing a holiday let in Pooley Bridge. Prices are not dissimilar, funnily enough.

Me, I’m having a new kitchen – and a meltdown. Could I, should I do pricey refurb and an extended trip to Italy or stay home… and learn to cook?

Does it matter that when I watch a TV murder-mystery and see forensic, scene of crime investigators scraping blood and hair from kitchen walls into plastic bags, I’m thinking: “Now, those are really nice units” and “Oh, great tiles!”?

Is it actually a problem that when holiday plans creep into conversation, as they do at this time of year, I’m still found wanting? And wanting.

Kitchen envy and holiday envy, they’re the same as makes no difference. Almost. In the end it’s the pressure of desire to have it all and a bit more that sends the head into a spin. We all want a suitable answer to the inevitable question: “And where are you off to this summer?”

The reply: “My new kitchen” doesn’t cut it. Not in the real world.

But: “The Moon”? No. Just no.

Unpack your protein pills and ditch the helmets, Major and Mrs Tom.

Frankly, there’s more fun to be had at Pooley Bridge, whatever the weather – or cost.