Tim Dowling, Guardian columnist

Best I think the best holiday we've had was one of the most recent: travelling across America. There were some dreadful moments, but driving across empty desert creates a certain unity of purpose, and as long as we were heading vaguely east, getting lost was no big deal.

Worst Most of our Cornish holidays – in my father-in-law's remote and deeply rustic cottage – are characterised by unrelenting rain, but there was one year when it didn't rain at all. Every day was clear, sunny and baking hot, and we spent a lot of time staring at the sky and remarking on our good fortune. That was the year we ran the well dry. The children were tiny – we were still cleaning bottles twice a day – and the lack of water quickly became demoralising. We had to ferry buckets from the stream to flush the toilet. The best thing about being in Cornwall, though, is that you can always get in the car and go home. That's what we did.

This year We're going back to the States this summer – but we're staying put – to celebrate my Dad's 90th birthday in August. For me it's not really a holiday – it's just going home – but I find it a lot less stressful than a week in France.

Tim is the father of Barnaby (16), Johnnie (13) and Will (12)

Shaun Keaveny, BBC 6 Music radio presenter

Best By far the best so far was a gorgeous week on the small Greek island of Skiathos at the Princess Hotel. Our sweaty infant was old enough to embrace island life with all its attendant pool-paddling, boat-bobbing and skinny dipping possibilities. Thanks to an amazing creche facility, mum and dad even got a few precious moments of peace to read a book and sample the local lagers.

Worst The new parent is always a heartbeat away from committing a judgment of jaw-dropping naivety. Booking a trullo in the middle of nowhere in the bone-dry heat of Puglia was not a great idea seeing as our eldest was just 11 weeks old at the time! We spent the whole holiday cowering from the relentless rays indoors.

This year Tenerife with Arthur, his new brother Wilfred and my mum and dad to the Abama Hotel. Now all that really matters is the quality of the childcare facilities and the pool bar service, both of which are apparently excellent here.

Shaun presents 6 Music's Breakfast Show and is the father of Arthur (3) and Wilfred (six months)

Phil Hilton, Editorial director at ShortList Media

Best Tuscany was the sort of place I wanted to tell people we'd been to. Somewhere suited to a visitor who speaks the language and respects the local culture – away from all the tourists. Obviously I knew nothing about the region, nor did I speak Italian. But my weird, middle-class, self-hating snobbery paid-off. We found ourselves in one of the most soothing places on earth. We rented a flat in Pereta – a hillside village with cobbled, winding streets too narrow for cars, and views onto a steep, green valley. A few yards from our door a restaurant called Maria's served us the culinary experience of our lives: eight courses, no choices, one fixed menu for everyone. The children still speak of it – a cross between a meal and a quiz: "I think it's a trotter." Couldn't ask … no Italian.

Worst By contrast, last year was a villa complex in Turkey, run by a woman from the north of England. In the second week our pool turned green. I was too unassertive to complain. After a while it was really very green so my wife complained. A man then poured white powder into our pool. This meant we had a green pool filled with chemicals.

This year We're driving from Las Vegas to LA and San Diego. Naturally, we'll be avoiding the more popular areas.

Phil is the father of Stevie (11) and Oliver (10)

Harriet Green, Editor of Guardian family

Best In Yorkshire we stayed in a luxurious Natural Retreats eco cabin in 45 acres near Swaledale and Richmond Castle. Nancy ran wild, playing in streams and chasing rabbits. Another time, we stayed on the car-free islands of Tresco and Bryher, in the Scilly Isles, where Nancy sat happily on the back of a tandem bike laughing and singing, while her father did all the hard work. And last year, we fell in love with a Gypsy caravan on the Welsh border.

Worst We were vomiting, by turns, and trying to pack for the airport while our baby daughter gurgled on the hotel bed. Only then did it occur to us that it might not be a great idea to try to carry on holidaying as we had done before we were parents. No more charter flights or unsuitable villas. We would stay in the UK. And we have loved it.

This year But now she's seven, we're going to risk a trip abroad: this summer, we're going to Sicily to take a peek at Mount Etna.

Harriet is the mother of Nancy (7)

Andy Pietrasik Head of Guardian Travel

Best I wanted to make the drive to and from south-west France into an adventure, so I booked into a campsite on an island in the Vendée for a couple nights on the way back to the ferry. The camping bit was going to be a hard sell to my wife, but she was sold as soon as she saw the pictures on the website of Camping Les Moulins on Ile de Noirmoutier (camping-les-moulins.com/en). This was not camping as she knew it – more a luxe cabin perched on a sand dune overlooking the sea, with bedrooms, a shower, a large living area with a sofa and a well-equipped kitchen – but then it was the brainchild of Dominique Perrin, the former CEO of Cartier. Our daughter could step out of the tent and on to the beach to play each morning, there were cycling trips along the salt marshes to the old town with its chateau, and we bought oysters and seafood on our way home.

Worst I'm reminded every time we see the family who holidayed with us that County Mayo in October half-term wasn't my brightest idea ever. I quite enjoy the bittersweet comforts of peat smoke and whiskey, but the atmosphere was heavy with rain and disappointment as soon as we landed in bog-sodden Knock. The kids woke to pitch darkness and almost looked forward to bedtime after moping all day under leaden skies. We were forced off the beaches and into municipal swimming pools, cinemas and empty pubs decked out for Halloween. I walked up Croagh Patrick in penance.

This year We're off to a family wedding in Portrush, Northern Ireland – a gloriously old-fashioned seaside town that's slightly down-at-heel but has a magnificent sweep of beach.

Andy is the father of Ciara (6)

Merope Mills, Editor, Guardian Weekend magazine

Best The best holiday was the one I feared might be the worst – a villa in Spain in the middle of nowhere. It had a pool but the kids were too young to swim and I'd worried about keeping them entertained. It was a real lesson in how you don't need overpriced child-centred breaks. It sounds naff, but they really connected with the environment while we were there: the fresh figs and juicy oranges you could pick off the trees on local walks, that sort of thing. There was a woman down the road who kept dogs, cats, chickens, tortoises, all sorts. That made them happier than any theme park ride ever could.

Worst About three years ago I got it into my head that my aunt in Dieppe was at death's door and I had to take my eight-month-old to see her. We travelled by ferry in midwinter. Apart from the fact it rained relentlessly while we were there, the ferry back was the worst journey I've ever had. The entire family was seasick and I had to clutch the baby to my chest the whole journey with one hand, and grab the side of the bed with the other to stop us both tumbling out with the force of each wave. She she screamed and threw up the entire journey. The aunt, by the way, is alive and kicking and just moved back to the UK.

This year Glamping in the south of France. You can get the Eurostar direct to Avignon in July and August. Unlike with airlines, children under four go free, and the idea of bypassing cheap flight hell was very appealing indeed.

Merope is the mother of Martha (3) and Lottie (2)

Adam Mansbach, Author of Go The Fuck To Sleep

Best Last winter, we went to the Florida Keys. It was a successful trip for a number of reasons, primary among them the fact that my parents came along, thus allowing my partner and I the occasional chance to get away and have a nice dinner (most notably, at a great spot in Marathon called The Barracuda Grill).

Worst I wouldn't recommend going to Stockholm in January. Every morning, my daughter woke me and I'd grimace out the window, into the wan, sickly light, and mutter: "Aaah, come on, it's five in the morning!" Then I'd look at my watch, and it was 9.30. And then, by 3.15pm, it would be pitch black.

This year A tiny, beautiful, remote Greek island that we escape to whenever possible. I'm not even going to tell you what it's called, because I want to keep it all for myself.

Adam's novel, Go The Fuck to Sleep, is out now, £9.99

Julie Myerson, Author

Best Christmas in New York when our children were small was magical. It snowed, they ate nothing but french toast, and I think they thought they'd been transported into a spiderman cartoon. For several summers, Jonathan and I taught a creative writing course on the Greek island of Kythera. We always took the kids and they had a brilliant time – they'd just reached the age when we didn't have to watch them every single second. They spent hours playing football in the town square with the local kids.

Worst I once took all three children and a new puppy to stay in a fishing hut in Whitstable. It never stopped raining, the dog peed everywhere, and Chloe (then eight) ate some cockles and got such bad food poisoning she was almost hospitalised. The drive home felt like a return from a war zone.

This year We're renting an apartment in Rome for a fortnight without our kids – first proper holiday ever on our own. I'm even going to see if I can manage not to call them!

Julie is the mother of Jake (22), Chloe (20), and Raphael (19). Her latest novel, Then, is out now

Ben Hatch, Author of Are We Nearly There Yet?

Best We rolled up at Knoll House Hotel in Studland Bay, Dorset, at the end of a gruelling five month, 8,000-mile road trip around Britain with our two under-fours. We'd been researching a guidebook and were exhausted. The kids were swept into a playroom with lashings of toys then pinny wearing nannies hosted a separate kids-only High Tea (healthy fish pies etc) at 5pm each evening. As night fell a babysitter stood guard outside our door enabling my wife, Dinah, and I to enjoy a rare dinner together. And all this five minutes' walk from a spotless, sandy beach just ripe for a kids' adventure. No wonder it was Enid Blyton's favourite hotel.

Worst We booked a lodge in what has been dubbed the most peaceful spot in the UK, Northumberland's Kielder Water. On the drive up, taking a "nature wee", our daughter was nearly blown up in a field of live ordnance. Our son Charlie insisted on sleeping in his slippers he was so petrified of getting a toe bitten by a puff adder, having heard mention of them at reception. And then Phoebe fell over and bit right through her lip, necessitating a long wait at Hexham General. On top of all that we got no sleep as bats swirled around our living room nightly. Pretty though.

This year We're Brighton-based so we'll hop on the LD Lines' crossing to Dieppe from Newhaven and explore France's untouristy Massif Central region (staying in a bat-proof gite, of course).

Ben Hatch's latest book, Are We Nearly There Yet? 8000 Misguided Miles In A Vauxhall Astra, is published on 8 August by Summersdale, £8.99. He is the father of Phoebe (7) and Charlie (4)

Helen Walsh, Author of Go To Sleep

Best Although it was a 20-minute drive to the nearest beach, Villa C'an Frare (fincas4you) near the village of Carritxo, Mallorca, was set in a wild garden full of gnarled old lemon and olive trees. My partner and I came home with lumbago as we spent most of the holiday pushing our then two-year-old around in a wheelbarrow. The owners provided a very cute cot but the master bed was big enough for the three of us to curl up in. The bedroom also led onto a large balcony where Mum and Dad could sip Rioja and watch the sun sink while our little one snored within earshot.

Worst The biggest disaster was a cottage called Hafod yr Rhedrwydd near Penmachno. No toilet roll, no towels – at £339 plus fuel surcharge for a two-night stay, it was a rip-off.

This year It's back to Mallorca and the child-friendly coves of Cala Sant Vicenç with our four-year-old. There are loads of mountain trails through the Tramuntuna. Can't wait!

Go To Sleep is out now, published by Canongate, £12.99

Catherine Nelson, Guardian Travel sub-editor

Best Dorset in April turned out to be the best kind of British holiday. The weather was mad but that added to the fun – we exchanged sympathetic glances with gloomy looking gibbons at Monkey World (monkeyworld.org) as it snowed outside, but by the end of the week two-year-olds Mia and (cousin) Jake were building sandcastles in the sun at Studland Bay and I dared a dip in the sea. We picnicked among gorse bushes by Lulworth Castle and skimmed pebbles at Durdle Door as canoeists paddled through the famous archway. Even the obligatory farm park visit was fun, stroking kune kune piglets at Farmer Palmer's (farmerpalmers.co.uk).

Worst We quickly rechristened our converted moulin (windmill) in Normandy Moulin des Mouches, on account of the flies. Spray was out of the question with small babies, and there weren't enough disgusting sticky flypapers in the whole départment to keep pace with our demands. Batting away the swarms in the tiny TV room, we watched Portugal knock England out of the World Cup, and the nightmare was complete.

This year We've just been to Pembrokeshire for the first time. Harry and I loved bodyboarding on the empty (if bracing) beaches. We'll be going back to Dorset in August, to a little chalet on the beach at Lyme Regis .

Catherine is the mother of Harry (10) and Mia (5)

Matt Haig, Author of The Radleys

Best We went to Nice for a week in May with the kids. The weather was perfect, especially as our two don't yet do much more with the sea than run away from it. We stayed at the Palais de la Mediterranée hotel on the Promenade des Anglais, which had a pool, soft toys on arrival, singing in the courtyard and so on. Other highlights included the Parc du Chateau playpark, giving you an amazing view of the Riviera coastline while you push swings. And the Musée d'Art Moderne is surprisingly kid-friendly with colourful zany sculptures.

Worst We went to Courmayeur in the Italian Alps for a literary festival. The place was over two hours from Turin airport and we were stranded in a tiny ski resort in which the kids were deemed too young for the cable car, and with only the most meagre play park to occupy us.

This year Sardinia. We've been before, but this time we're going to the north coast. Even by Italian standards, Sardinians are infatuated with kids.

Matt's latest book, The Radleys, is published by Canongate, £7.99. He is the father of Lucas (3) and Pearl (2)