I’ll never forget the drive to Blakeney – what should’ve been a straightforward jaunt from Norwich turned into a proper comedy of errors. Sat-nav decided to play silly buggers halfway there, directing us down a narrow lane that pinched tighter than my skinny jeans after Christmas dinner. We ended up wedged behind a tractor chugging along at snail’s pace, with the kids in the back chanting “Are we there yet?” like a broken record. By the time we spotted the quay signs, I was gripping the wheel like it owed me money, but honestly, that little mishap just ramped up the anticipation. Blakeney’s got this timeless pull – you can feel the salt air calling before you even park up.

Pulling into the village proper felt like stepping into a postcard. We rattled over the humps by the harbour, dodging a couple of cyclists who looked far too chipper for a blustery Norfolk afternoon, and finally found our spot. It’s this fabulously appointed detached luxury retreat, right in the heart of things – think cosy yet swish, with everything you need to flop down after a day out. First impressions? Bloody marvellous, sorry, I mean spot on. The moment we tumbled out of the car, bags flying everywhere (one kid’s welly got stuck in the boot latch, cue five minutes of frantic tugging), I just knew we’d lucked out. The views from the windows straight over the marshes? Magic. Seals bobbing about in the distance like cheeky locals waving hello.

We dumped the gear and legged it down to the quay – couldn’t resist that first proper hit of sea air. It’s all seals and boats here, isn’t it? Booked a quick seal trip for the morrow, but even just mooching along the water’s edge, watching the mudflats shimmer under that big Norfolk sky, had us grinning like idiots. Popped into one of the village restaurants for fish and chips – proper fresh, wrapped in paper that didn’t even need ketchup to taste heavenly. The kids were in their element, spotting waders and pretending to be nature experts, while I nursed a pint and thought, “This is why we do these getaways.”

That evening, back at the retreat, we cracked open a bottle of fizz and sprawled out. The place is perfect for a group – space to breathe, kitchen kitted out like a telly chef’s dream. I had a quiet moment on the sofa, staring out at the reserve as the light faded, reflecting on how daft it is that we city folk wait all year for this. Work stress? Vanished quicker than our arrival snacks. Blakeney’s wild edge – the nature reserve paths calling for tomorrow’s ramble, the hush of the tide – it’s a reset button. Despite the drive drama, those first impressions sealed it: this corner of North Norfolk’s our new happy place. Can’t wait to return, minus the tractor standoff.