"Take your Year In Provence and shove it up your arse," sang Jarvis Cocker on Pulp's 1995 class-war classic "I Spy". Hatch's account of a round-Britain road-trip with his wife and two young children in order to write a Frommer's guide could well catch the attention of a new generation of angry pop stars with a travel-writing grudge. While Hatch is capable of writing extremely movingly about family  not least about his father, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer shortly before Hatch embarked on this five-month journey  that doesn't mean you want to recreate the sensation of being stuck in the back of a Vauxhall Astra like one of his restless kids. The A-Z of middle-class parenting techniques (CBeebies, chocolate buttons, overwhelming guilt); the arguments about packing that are Terry and June in Boden; the children-say-the-funniest-things cutesiness; the way every remotely amusing conversation between him and his wife Dinah is mined for material  he might be painfully honest, but it's hard to tell if he means to reveal quite so much.