I’ll never forget the drive up to Buxton last month – me at the wheel, kids in the back bickering over crisps, and the sat-nav deciding to throw a proper wobbly just as we hit the twisty Peak District roads. We ended up looping round a sheep-filled field for twenty minutes, which had my other half muttering about my “legendary sense of direction”. Still, by the time we pulled into the car park, the anticipation was buzzing – those rolling hills peeking through the mist promised proper family escapism.

Stepping into our second-floor apartment in that grand old mansion next to Pavilion Gardens was like stumbling into a hug from an old friend. Light flooded the place from those massive windows overlooking the park, and the high ceilings made it feel airy and huge without being fussy. First impressions? Spot on. The kitchen-diner was kitted out brilliantly – shiny fixtures, everything you’d need for a self-catering stint, from chopping boards to cafetière for my morning coffee fix. We dumped the bags and cracked open a round of teas, grinning at the view of families strolling below.

Two steps up to the living area, and it was game over for any holiday stress. Plush sofas begging for a flop, Smart TV ready for kids’ movie marathons, and a dining table that saw everything from posh pasta dinners to lazy breakfast bar scoffing of local bakery pasties. We’d order fish and chips from a spot down the road one night, windows steamed up, laughing at the chaos of sauce sachets everywhere. Cottage life, innit? Proper relaxed, with that gentle hum of park life outside.

Sleeps were a dream too. The super-king room with its en-suite tub was my haven – after a day pounding the trails, I’d sink in for a soak, telly on low, while the twins crashed out in the other bedroom with its walk-in shower keeping things simple for their morning madness. No faff, just comfort.

Days blurred into simple joys: ambling through Pavilion Gardens, kids chasing ducks by the boating lake, then a short hop to the Opera House for an impromptu show (we caught a cracking family panto). We wandered to the Glass Botanical Dome, marvelling at exotic plants that felt a world away from our urban grind. Hikes? Oh yes – gentle ones up to Solomon’s Temple for panoramic views, picnic packed from the Co-op, with the littluns pretending they were explorers. One afternoon, we just lounged in the gardens, feeding ice creams to pigeons and dodging sudden Peak District showers under the Pavilion’s eaves.

Looking back, it was those little cottage-life hiccups that made it – spilled milk at breakfast, socks left on the radiators, the lot. Made me reflect on how we rush about at home; here, slowing down felt like the real luxury. Buxton’s got that magic for family breaks – close enough for adventures, cosy enough for downtime. We’re already plotting a return.