I’ll never forget the drive over to the Isle of Wight for our family break – we’d splashed out on the ferry from Lymington, buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation, kids glued to the windows spotting seals in the Solent. But typical us, halfway across, the sat-nav decided to have a hissy fit and sent us on a wild detour through some narrow lanes that made our old estate car groan like it was auditioning for a horror film. We ended up in a cow field, laughing hysterically as the farmer waved us out with a grin. Still, by the time we rolled into Yarmouth, the sun was dipping low, and all was forgiven.

Pulling up to this delightful beachfront coastal cottage apartment, my heart did a little flip – those massive panoramic views across the Solent towards Lymington had me grinning like a kid at Christmas. It’s this former boathouse turned cosy haven, all light and spacious with open-plan living downstairs where you flop on the comfiest sofas, watching yachts bob about like they’re putting on a show just for you. Up in the loft-style bedroom, it’s snug as a bug, perfect for stealing a cheeky lie-in. And those huge patio doors? Straight out onto a private patio with direct access to the shingle beach – heaven for sandy toes and impromptu pebble-skipping contests.

We were there with the kids and my other half for a proper relaxed family do, embracing that cottage life chaos in the best way. Mornings kicked off with brekkie on the patio, frying up bacon butties while dodging seagulls eyeing our plates like feathered burglars. The Solent’s ever-changing moods kept us hooked – one minute glassy calm, the next choppy with ferries chugging past. We’d wander five minutes into Yarmouth village for fresh pasties from the bakery or ice creams that dripped faster than the kids could lick ’em, then flop back for lazy afternoons beachcombing. Found a crab or two in rock pools, built wonky sandcastles that the tide claimed with gleeful inevitability, and even tried our hand at a family paddle in the shallows – cue much splashing and me emerging like a drowned rat, declaring it “character-building.”

Evenings were pure bliss: firing up the BBQ on the patio as the sun set in a blaze of pink over the water, kids toasting marshmallows till they were gooey disasters, us adults cracking open a bottle of wine and chatting rubbish. There was this one moment of gentle self-reflection as I sat there, feet in the shingle, listening to the waves lap – amid the joyful mayhem of family life, how often do we actually switch off? This place forced it, no distractions, just simple pleasures like that.

One tiny hitch: the kids turned the living room into a fort of cushions and beach towels, and extracting them for bed involved bribery with stories. But that’s the charm, innit? No grand plans, just us, the sea, and a bit of lovely disorder. If you’re after a chilled family escape where the views steal the show and memories stick like sand in your socks, this Yarmouth gem’s the ticket. We’re already plotting a return.