One of those bossy bloggers said, ‘Tip #1: avoid driving the Amalfi Coast yourself.’

Well, we managed to drive along as speedily as we liked, which meant ‘not very’: not because of the traffic, but because we kept stopping in the laybys to take selfies with the noble sequence of limestone bays stretching out into the Tyrrhenian Sea.

We bought plates and cups at the Emporio della Ceramica. I let my agenda slip a little and asked Lorenzo, the owner, conspiratorially, if he knew a nice little place for lunch, you know, not too touristy. He looked at me bemused. ‘Just eat anywhere. They’re all pretty good.’

So feeling somewhat shamefaced we picked the most obvious beachside restaurant, a place called La Cambusa. We had perfect spaghetti alle vongole and a glass of rosé, and were as happy as the clams on the rustic plate in front of us.

I still couldn’t rid myself of that nagging travel writer creed thing, so I insisted we drove on beyond Amalfi up into the hills to see what we could find. We found La Scala, a rather gloomy, The Name of the Rose kind of village with an imposing cathedral dating back to the ninth century and sunset views over the rosy mountains. It was very fine, but Positano is a lot more fun (and I bought some rather good suede shoes there, too: Boutique Carro on Piazza dei Mulini).

And before we flew back to London: Pompeii. Even the most po-faced travel writers concede this is one tourist hotspot you should see. Early morning, there were still lengthy queues. By the time we exited the site in the early afternoon, they’d gone.

I don’t have the space or the expertise to add much to the millions of words poured over Pompeii since a deadly ash cloud and pyroclastic flow destroyed the city in 79 AD. I suppose everyone has their own highlights. Mine were the contemporary-looking, cube-style design of the mosaics in the House of the Faun, which looked as if Escher had been round to touch them up.

Second: the views of Mount Vesuvius between the intact columns and the ragged remains of the villa walls – a killer surveying a crime scene for eternity.

Vesuvius still has the potential to be murderous, and driving up the flanks of a volcano that is statistically long-overdue another explosive episode makes you a little wobbly in the tummy region. But up there at 1,200 metres in late December, more immediate physical needs take over: like staying warm as the mountain gods hurl icy winds around the shattered summit.

The Amalfi Coast, this indescribably precious piece of international tourism real estate, faces real problems. Capri’s mayor thinks his island will ‘explode’ if the 15,000 visitors who arrive there every summer’s day increases. A Unesco official warned that cruise tourists treading the same path every day were ‘wearing out’ Pompeii. So help them spread the load. Go in winter. We thought it may rain (it didn’t). We suspected it would be chilly (it wasn’t, Vesuvius aside). We knew it would be wonderful and it surpassed all expectations.

For more on Grand Hotel Excelsior Vittoria, visit exvitt.it