I’ll never forget the drive down to Broadstairs – sat nav had us veering off onto some dodgy B-road near Margate, and wouldn’t you know it, a cheeky flock of seagulls decided our windscreen was target practice. We arrived splattered and giggling, but as we pulled up to the seafront, all that melted away. There it was: this elegant Victorian building right on the edge, waves crashing below like they were rolling out the red carpet. Heart racing a bit with that holiday buzz, we climbed the steps to the raised ground floor apartment, and blimey, the first glimpse inside hit like a breath of fresh sea air. High ceilings, oak flooring underfoot, and those tranquil tones wrapping around you – it felt like stepping into a hug from an old friend.

The open-plan living space pulled us straight in, that massive bay window framing the sea like a living painting, sunlight bouncing everywhere. We dumped the bags, collapsed into the armchairs by the ornate fireplace, and just soaked it up. Kitchen was a dream too – crisp white cabinets, a breakfast bar perfect for brewing tea while chatting about the day ahead. Pets welcome, stylish for mates or family, and dead close to the beach and shops. Proper sorted.

We’d planned epic hikes along the Thanet coast path, lacing up boots for those clifftop wanders from Viking Bay to Joss Bay. First morning, weather was cracking – blue skies, that crisp coastal chill. We strolled out, past the beach huts in their candy-striped glory, up onto the path where gulls wheeled overhead and the sea sparkled like it was showing off. Legs pumping, we chatted nonsense, stopping for fish and chips from a nearby stall, salt in the air thick enough to taste. Felt alive, you know? Proper invigorated.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Come afternoon, clouds rolled in like uninvited guests, wind whipping up a proper hoo-ha. Our big hike to Botany Bay got scrubbed; instead, we dashed back, rain lashing the windows as we huddled on the sofa with tea and the telly. Laughed about it over breakfast the next day – me blending smoothies at that handy kitchen setup – realising I’d been so gung-ho about striding out, forgetting how Kent’s skies can flip in a heartbeat. Gentle nudge to slow down, eh? Embrace the cosiness.

Next day, it cleared just enough for a shorter jaunt along the promenade, dodging puddles and spotting seals bobbing offshore. Weather played havoc again by evening – hailstones the size of marbles pinging off the bay window – so we stayed put, cooking up pasta at the breakfast bar, waves our soundtrack. Those forced indoor moments turned out golden, reflecting on how holidays aren’t just about ticking off trails, but rolling with the squalls.

Third morning, sun broke through for a victory lap: a breezy hike to Louisa Bay, paths muddy but magical, wildflowers nodding in the breeze. Back at the flat, knackered and content, stretching out in the airy lounge as daylight danced across the walls. Broadstairs delivered – hikes when it shone, hygge vibes when it didn’t. Can’t wait to go back; next time, I’ll pack more waterproofs.