I’ll never forget the drive up to Buxton – what should’ve been a straightforward jaunt from Manchester turned into a proper comedy of errors. Sat-nav decided to play silly buggers, rerouting us through some winding back lane that had us white-knuckling it round hairpin bends, with the kids in the back chanting “Are we there yet?” like a broken record. Then, just as we crested a hill with those gorgeous Peak District views unfolding – all rolling moors and drystone walls – we hit a sheep traffic jam. Yes, really. A flock of the woolly blighters blocking the road, eyeing us like we were the intruders. By the time we’d herded them aside with waves and honks, we were late, frazzled, and starving. Still, that anticipation bubbled up as Buxton’s lights twinkled into view; I could practically taste the promise of a cosy getaway.

Pulling into the car park beneath the building, hearts racing from the chaos, we lugged cases up to the second-floor entrance, me muttering about needing a holiday from the holiday. But oh, what a payoff. Stepping into the hall, we were hit with this welcoming utility nook – washer, dryer, the lot – which was a godsend after our road-rage picnic of crisps and squashed sandwiches. No faffing about hunting for essentials; it felt like the flat was already one step ahead.

Pushing through to the open-plan living space, my jaw dropped. Spacious doesn’t even cover it – elegant rooms stretching out with stylish sofas and a kitchen that screamed “cook something fancy tonight”. Massive windows framed Buxton’s iconic Crescent and the grand old Palace Hotel right there, glowing in the evening light. It was like the town had rolled out the red carpet, all historic spa vibes without the twee frills. The kids bolted straight for the bedrooms upstairs – lavish setups with en-suites that made our city flat look like a broom cupboard. “This is posh, Mum!” my eldest grinned, and I had to agree.

But the real showstopper? That rooftop terrace. We hauled ourselves up, hot tub steaming under the stars, and it was pure magic. Overlooking the Crescent’s graceful curve, with Buxton’s pavilions and parks twinkling below, we cracked open fizz and sank in, mishaps melting away. Laughter echoed as we splashed about, the Peaks’ fresh air nipping at our cheeks. First impressions? Blown away. It’s the sort of spot that makes you feel instantly at home, yet a cut above – perfect for family antics or mates’ escapes.

Reflecting on it now, that bumpy arrival was a blessing in disguise. It made the luxury hit harder, reminding me to slow down and savour these moments. We wandered the Crescent the next morning, dipping into the Pavilion Gardens for coffee and a mooch, then hiked up to Solomon’s Temple for those sweeping views – all under five minutes’ stroll. No car needed, just pure Peak District bliss from our lofty perch. If you’re after a Buxton base that nails comfort and location, this is it. We’re already plotting a return – minus the sheep, hopefully.