Champagne in St Tropez, prosecco on Como, a Ferrari in Tuscany

There are two rivieras. Most people pick one.

This family did both in one summer - the French coast first, then down into Italy. They took it slowly, never rushed, and never had the same morning twice.

Here's how it went.

The French side

It started in Nice. A driver was waiting when they landed - name on a board, their bags handled before they'd reached the doors - and the first night was a quiet one. A walk through the old town, a drink at a beach club as the sun went down, an early bed. We always keep the first day light; everyone arrives tired, and the trip's better for starting rested.

The next morning they took a private yacht across to St Tropez - the best way to arrive, from the water, watching the town come into view. A guide met them and walked them through the back streets, champagne in hand, a couple of polaroids to take home. And a tarte tropézienne, because you can't go to St Tropez and not.

The next day was the big one - the whole Riviera in an afternoon. Cannes and the Croisette. Antibes and its marina full of enormous yachts. Èze, the little medieval village up on the cliff, with the Fragonard perfume house at the bottom of it. And Monaco to finish: the casino, the Grand Prix streets, the palace on the rock. A lot of coast for one day, but with a good driver and no fixed plan, it's an easy one.

The easy part

A short, direct train took them from Nice to Milan, the sea out the window most of the way. When they got in, the next driver was already on the platform and a car was waiting outside. There always was one.

The Italian side

Milan was a gentle start - the Duomo up close, a slow wander through the Galleria, not much else. That was the idea.

Como was the day everyone remembers. A morning train up, then a few hours on a private boat across the lake - a long stop at Bellagio, Varenna over the water, grand old villas the whole way (the captain will point out the one Richard Branson owns). Halfway through, he cut the engine somewhere in the middle of the lake and they just stopped - mountains dropping straight into the water on every side, prosecco in hand, not another boat in sight. A few of them jumped in for a swim. Nowhere to be, nothing to do. Hard to beat a day like that.

Then a fast train south to Florence. A driver had messaged that morning with the timing and was there the moment they stepped off - same as every stop. And then the afternoon the title is half about: a Ferrari, picked up at Piazzale Michelangelo with all of Florence laid out below - the Duomo, Ponte Vecchio, the hills behind. An hour through the Tuscan countryside, on the scenic road the locals actually use, in an F8 and a Portofino. It's exactly as good as it sounds.

In Florence they stayed at The Hoxton - not the name people expect for the city, which is why we like it. An old palazzo on the quieter side of the river, more design hotel than grand old dame. They walked in expecting nice and left a little obsessed.

The next day was the slower one, and probably the best. A short drive out to Il Borro, an estate up in the hills, for a private tasting down in the old cellar - a few of their wines, their own olive oil, someone who clearly loved the place showing them round. Then, instead of heading straight back, a horseback ride out from the estate at sunset - through the vineyards and olive groves, over a little bridge, along a stream, the hills going gold behind them.

South, to the sea

From Florence they went all the way down to Sorrento. The train ran late, but they only found out afterwards, once it didn't matter. They stayed at Marina Piccola 73 - a small place right down by the water that hardly anyone outside Sorrento knows. Just a few rooms, the sea almost at the door, and the one stay the family talked about most. They kept the first night free: a walk, dinner, the sea somewhere below.

The next day was the boat - a full private day out toward Capri and Positano. The Faraglioni rocks up close, swimming straight off the back of the boat, the grottoes, Positano rising up the hillside. Lunch was fresh seafood by the water. Capri if they wanted it, the sea if they didn't.

Rome, to end

The last stop was Rome, with a free day and nothing on the schedule. After eleven days of having every detail taken care of, that's its own kind of luxury - waking up somewhere beautiful with nowhere you have to be.

Two rivieras, two countries, a Ferrari, a horse, a boat, and not one repeated morning. The flight home was the first time all summer they had to be anywhere on time.