I’ll never forget the drive up to Ambleside – we’d loaded the car with enough snacks to feed a small army, the kids buzzing in the back with their iPads, and me navigating while my husband drove. About halfway through the Lakes, just past Windermere, disaster struck: a rogue sheep decided our lane was prime grazing spot. We slammed on the brakes, hearts in mouths, and watched it amble off like it owned the road. “Typical Lake District welcome,” I laughed, though secretly I was plotting my revenge on every woolly beast in Cumbria.

By the time we crested the hill into Ambleside, the sun was dipping behind Loughrigg Fell, painting everything golden. There it was – our two-storey apartment, tucked above the village with those cracking views right over the rooftops to the fell. I’d been anticipating this bit all week, imagining cosy evenings after days out, and blimey, first impressions didn’t disappoint. It’s the sort of place perfect for a family like ours or mates on a jaunt – central enough for popping down to the endless restaurants and shops, but high up for that peaceful vibe.

We piled in, bags everywhere, kids claiming bedrooms like it was a game of musical chairs. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms – bliss for avoiding morning queues – and a bright, modern kitchen with a dining area that became our command centre. The sitting room was spot on for flopping after adventures, telly on low while we scoffed fish and chips from Zeffirellis. That first night, we just sat gazing out at the lights twinkling below, sipping tea, and I thought, “This is proper holiday magic.”

Next morning, it was all about that relaxed family chaos. Breakfast was a faff – pancakes sticking to the pan, orange juice spills – but who cares when you’ve got views like that? We wandered down into the village, grabbed pasties from the market, then ambled along the Rothay River, chucking stones and dodging ducks. The kids loved Stock Ghyll Force, that easy waterfall walk just up the road – we huffed up the steps, got soaked in the spray, and felt like proper explorers. Lunch was a picnic by the water, simple sarnies and crisps, laughing at my failed attempt to look glamorous in wellies.

Afternoons were for pottering: a gentle stroll around the lake edges, ice creams from the parlour on the high street, maybe a browse in the bookshop for Beatrix Potter tales. Evenings back at the flat meant board games turning competitive (Monopoly nearly caused a divorce), then collapsing in the sitting room with hot chocolate. One night, the heavens opened – classic Lakes weather – and we stayed in, baking sconies that came out more like rocks. “Mum’s special bricks,” the littlest quipped, and we howled.

Reflecting on it now, that week was pure simple pleasures – no grand plans, just us lot embracing the cottage life mayhem. The odd tantrum, the sheep-induced stress, but mostly those quiet moments watching the fells from the window, feeling utterly content. Ambleside’s got that knack of slowing you down, reminding you what matters. We’re already plotting a return – next time, I’m packing sheep repellent.