Sean Newsom: I fell in love with the mountains long before I learnt to ski. But now I only ever visit them in winter. It’s a shame, because you never really get a chance to stop and soak up the spirit of the place. I miss the summer smells especially. So, next year, wife, son and I will be heading to the Italian Dolomites.

The mountain scenery is second to none, and so is the food. What’s more, I’m getting beyond the age when I want to bounce over boulders on a mountain bike or hang from the side of a cliff on a piece of string. I want sunshine, long, peaceful walks through nodding grass meadows and the occasional afternoon playing poohsticks with the little ’un. The gentle pastures of the Dolomites are perfect.

Brian Schofield: Surely the summer of 2010 will be less damp and dank than 2009’s feeble effort? With that in mind, my household has already announced plans for the Summer of Camping, with the kit on permanent standby for both weekend pitch-ups and longer stretches of canvas life. Camp sites in Britain’s more accessible but less spectacular parts, catering for easy weekend breaks, are definitely on the up these days — south of London, for example, Spring Farm (01273 488450, springbarnfarmpark.co.uk) and Wowo (01825 723414, wowo.co.uk), both in East Sussex, are high on the hit list. It’s worth heading out west for a week or more — my pick is North Morte Farm, on a clifftop on the north Devon coast (01271 870381, northmortefarm.co.uk).

Stephen Bleach: It doesn’t seem to matter much where I want to go. I’m outvoted. “Somewhere hot, like Spain, with a water park,” demands the seven-year-old. “New York,” says the wife. “Tatooine,” says the Star Wars-obsessed five-year-old, “and I know you can go there now. Newsround said Richard Branston [sic] has made a spaceship.” I’ll do my best with all of those, but while they’re not looking, I intend to sneak off to Ethiopia. The community tourism outfit Village Ways (01223 750049, villageways.com) has just set up walking holidays in the highlands, staying with local families. It looks a bit rough, but genuinely fascinating — a return to my backpacking roots.

Chris Haslam: In March, I’ll be queueing at the gate to Yala National Park, in Sri Lanka, recently reopened after being closed for a decade during the civil war. The area has the highest concentration of wild leopards in the world, in a vast area of dense jungle, open savanna and crocodile-infested marshes. It also has miles of pristine beaches, unspoilt by humanity — and, by delightful coincidence, the waters off its southern tip are rapidly gaining a reputation as the best place to spot the blue whale as it migrates from the Bay of Bengal.

Rob Ryan: The annual struggle is, as always, to find a holiday that suits the whole family. The big-success one-size-pleases-all trip this year was the space-themed Bestival (bestival.net), on the Isle of Wight, as it gave the kids a great sense of independence within a (relatively) controlled environment. Next year, we are slyly shifting to the more parent-friendly (okay, older-demographic) Latitude festival, in Suffolk, which brings in stronger elements of cinema, performance and literature as well as the usual live music and dance. It’s not cheap, at £150 for a four-day ticket (on sale in spring; latitudefestival.co.uk), but no air fares are involved. And we’ll be taking a camper van with built-in lavatory and shower. Lesson learnt.

Paul Croughton: I’ve just come back from Panama — where I spent a few blissful days on its Caribbean shore, counting starfish and eating snapper — and I really fancy another go on the sort of white-sand beaches you see in all the glossy mags. The flight to the Caribbean is far too long, so a much closer version is Formentera. I’ve been to Ibiza too many times to remember, but have only ever spent a few days on its little-sister island. There’s a restaurant on Illetes beach called El Tiburon, where I had an extraordinary fish stew, with my feet in the sand and the sun on my back, gazing out to sea, feeling more at peace than I have anywhere else in the Balearics. I’d quite like to feel like that again.

Susan d’Arcy: I want to visit Soneva Kiri (sixsenses.com/soneva-kiri), which has just opened on a remote, rainforested Thai island, close to the Cambodian border. Six Senses resorts are always innovatively designed, and these villas look vast but simple and organic, with free-flowing spaces that encourage utter relaxation. The company can’t resist a bit of showing off, though, so it has a tree-top dining pod, served by a waiter on a zip wire, as well as a state-of-the-art observatory, which should be fun. Carrier (0161 491 7630, carrier.co.uk) has a week from £2,875pp, B&B; book by January 31.

Richard Green: I’ll be waking late in a bright little shuttered room at the Continental, in Tangier (00 212 5 39 93 10 24; doubles from £35).

The Moroccan port is free from UK-originating low-cost flights for now, so I’ll catch the ferry from Spain and enjoy the sweeping corniche, the ramshackle medina and the tad louche nightlife, virtually Brit-free. The ghosts of Paul Bowles, the Beat writers and Williamses Tennessee and Kenneth infuse every drinking den. For mint-tea sundowners, Cafe Hafa’s clifftop cascade of terraces is unbeatable, and later I’ll down beers with the locals in the smoke-filled bar of the El Muniria hotel (where William Burroughs wrote The Naked Lunch).

Matt Rudd: Well, look at everyone, with their wild globetrotting adventures. I’m pleased for them, but I’ve reached an age where the simple things in life make me happy. I shall be at my happiest in my gorgeous new Mongolian bell tent (from canvasandcast.com) in a field somewhere near the village of Ribeauvillé, in Alsace, with a glass of wine in one hand and some brie in the other. I may have a napkin on my head. It’s too soon to say.