I recently celebrated three decades of walking (and commuting) this earth and started planning my next holiday. You see, I love travelling. Trouble is, I over-travelled last year (if anyone can ever over-travel), with dire consequences on my savings. Plus my husband and I will be spending the metaphorical sludge at the bottom of the coffee cup on solar panels and a new door for our balcony this year – the old door is going mouldy. Which necessarily means that our next holiday is going to be a budget one.

We started discussing locations. We thought we would go to a place we could reach with a short, low-cost flight. The Amalfi coast sounded perfect – Italian cuisine, beaches and amazing views. But as we discovered after a quick online search, the cheapest rooms cost over €250 a night. We realised we were competing with celebrities and looked elsewhere.

Eventually, we settled on a driving holiday to Sicily. Our friends had made a similar trip last year, so our itinerary was almost ready by the time we booked our flights. Bliss.

But low-cost holidays in my thirties aren’t the same as the low-cost holidays of my twenties. Back then, as a student, budget travelling included dubious accommodation, sometimes with complete strangers. When visiting London some 10 years ago, my friends and I stayed in a cheap hotel. We prepared for the worst. The first thing we did before unpacking was go to Tesco across the road and buy cleaning supplies. We scrubbed the bathroom clean and replaced the bed linen with our own sheets. Despite our best efforts, the occasional cockroach did appear as a breakfast treat.

Another time I stayed in a hostel for a week. I shared a dormitory, and showers, with 12 complete strangers. At least they were all women. I would lock up my passport and what cash I had in my suitcase and shove it under my bed. As if a 20-kilo suitcase can be hidden.

Times change. By the time you’re 30, you look for comfort when you go on holiday. And privacy. At that age, you have your own house, set out just the way you like it, with everyday comforts – a large bed, flat-screen television and clean bathrooms. Which means that you don’t want to go on holiday and feel worse off than when you’re at home.

In crowded cities, maximising your time also means not waiting two hours in a queue

Some comforts become necessities as you slide into your fourth decade. An orthopaedic mattress and good pillows for example. The first to make sure my lower back doesn’t play up, especially after a day out walking. The second so that an old whiplash injury stays forgotten.

Two winters ago, I stayed in a two-star hotel in Brussels. It was terrible. The bed went concave on me. It was so soft you could fold it into four. And the heating was switched off. I slept with my coat on top of the duvet. I vowed never to stay in a two-star hotel again.

However, all is not dire for the budget traveller. With a little bit of patience and planning, you can still enjoy your holiday without going over the budget.

For instance, there are savings to be made on accommodation by booking early. And it’s worth checking out different websites for good rates. Often B&Bs offer better quality than hotels and usually at cheaper prices. We had great experiences in Scotland with friendly hostesses. In response to our request for cereal, they insisted we ought to have a full Scottish breakfast. We didn’t need much encouragement.

As you get older, your time becomes more valuable. Commuting on public transport is considered wasted time, and not part of the holiday anymore. This means hotels must be in central locations. Or else you can rent a car, which gives you the freedom to plan your own itinerary, go to places which are off the public transport map, and have fun getting lost and discovering places by accident.

In crowded cities, maximising your time also means not waiting two hours in a queue. So booking online is a must, even if you will probably need to pay a bit more. In Rome, I had the pleasure of walking past a two-block queue and getting inside the Vatican with my pre-booked tickets. I did feel a bit smug and a little sorry for the people waiting in the rain.

In my 30s, I also get to make more careful food choices while on holiday. In my 20s, I would become a regular at the nearest fast-food chain. And while back then, I thought fast food was cheap and delicious, nowadays, my criteria favour freshly prepared local food.

Self-service food stops also offer great tasting and healthy eating options. On a roadside stop in Scotland, I paid less than €20 for a delicious homemade meal for two, including half a roast chicken. Cafe food is also convenient – soups and sandwiches are usually inexpensive. But when you’re no longer a student, it wouldn’t feel like a holiday if that was all you ate, would it? At least once during the trip, more frequently if possible, I feel the need to go to an authentic, high-end restaurant, preferably with fantastic views. It’s my treat – after all, that’s what a holiday is all about.

That’s the big difference between low-cost holidaying in your 20s and your 30s. In your 20s, if you’re still studying, or saving up for a major life expense like your first property, you have no option but to stick to a budget. You feel lucky to even be on holiday.

In your thirties, you have a little more flexibility with money. Low-cost holidaying becomes more about getting good value than buying cheap.

Yet even on a budget holiday, do splurge occasionally. Whether it’s drinks at a smart bar, a handbag, or gifts for the other half, it will make you feel that you’re really treating yourself. And in my case, because we’re mixing low-cost items with small luxuries, we can still afford to change our balcony door after the holiday is over.