I think holidays are all about creating memories, and one of my best is of riding a camel across the desert in Tunisia on Christmas Day. This was a holiday Christian and I planned about a week after meeting each other.

It was very romantic, but after spending a few days looking at the Star Wars sets and listening to his Darth Vader impressions, it was good to see him looking like Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia.

This time last year, I was relaxing on a Lilo in a pool in Turkey, looking up at a clear blue sky. The baby was asleep, Christian was reading on a sun lounger and my mother-in-law was preparing lunch.

I remember thinking that everything was perfect. Of course, the baby woke up, Christian dived in the pool and it was ruined, but I don't really remember that. I just think of the whole holiday being crystallised into that one moment of utter tranquillity.

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My in-laws recently decided to retire to the village of Gocek, near Dalaman. It’s a lovely place — beautiful beaches — and lots of Turkish people holiday there. Everyone seems friendly, and it reminds me of Iran in the way 20 neighbours decide to call round after lunch when you’re having a nap. I love it, but it may drive my mother-in-law mad.

We left Iran when I was a child, and at the moment it’s not possible to go back. I had a friend who travelled quite extensively there and said it was lovely, which caused me more than a pang of jealousy. Other friends have been skiing near Tehran, which sounds wonderful, not least because, up in the mountains, it’s a bit like a free zone: you can drink, smoke and do more or less what you like.

Although I haven’t been there for nearly 30 years, Iran causes problems whenever I try to go anywhere else. Until I was 25, I travelled with a refugee document. That always sparked a bit of luggage-searching, and on school trips the teacher used to hide me under a pile of coats to avoid questions.

It’s not much easier now that I have a British passport. Once officials see I was born in Tehran, there’s always a bit of keeping me in my place, especially in America. What I find helps is to make myself super- British and speak in the most clipped 1950s accent I can muster.

When they start the questions, I reply, “Yes, I did pack my bag myself, old chap. I say, would you mind awfully not unfolding my knickers?” That usually balances out my place of birth.

I love Britain, and one of the great things about being a comic is that you get to see every nook and cranny, and discover little pockets that you’ve never heard of. Sometimes, I’ll do a gig somewhere like Hebden Bridge or Rye, then return there for a family holiday. I’m particularly fond of the Midlands: it’s not the most glamorous place, but I love it.

When I was a child, my parents used to have rather wild dinner parties that lasted until three or four in the morning. Often, my dad would then decide that every­one should go away somewhere.

He’d wake us up, throw a few things in the car and drive to Brighton, where he’d start hammering on the doors of B&Bs at six in the morning. Luckily, he is a warm person, and within minutes of us arriving, he’d usually managed to wheedle his way into the kitchen and would be cooking a huge feast of lamb for family and friends.

Before having a baby, my ideal holiday would have been tracking gorillas in the wild. Unfortunately, I never got round to doing that, and now I want something easier, involving sun, a beach and no dangerous insects to crawl through Cassius’s skin. We’re about to go to Paphos, in Cyprus, to a very fancy hotel. It’s not normally the sort of thing we’d do, but I’ve been working nonstop for two years, so I’m treating it as belated maternity leave.

When Cassius is a bit older, I’d like to start going to more adventurous places and creating a few spectacular holiday memories for our son. In my sights are India, Thailand and Cuba. In fact, my old school bully recently got in touch through Facebook. She is now a travel agent and deals with Cuba, so I might call on her to make amends for calling me “the incredible bulk”.

Shappi Khorsandi talked to Lizzie Enfield

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