I’ll never forget the drive down to Little Petherick – we’d piled into the car in the pouring rain from up country, sat-nav insisting we were nearly there, when bang, a puncture on one of those twisty lanes near the A39. Me, fiddling with the spare tyre like I knew what I was doing, while the kids groaned from the back and the dogs barked at every passing tractor. Half an hour later, muddy and a bit frazzled, we finally rolled into that peaceful village tucked above the wooded creek off the River Camel. But honestly, as we pulled up to this superb retreat – a spacious, secluded house sleeping 11 with room for our three daft dogs – all the stress melted away. First impressions? Glorious views across the creek, a hot tub winking in the garden, and even a tennis court we’d probably never use. Just three miles from the North Cornwall coast, it felt like our own little idyll.

We’d come for a family gathering, and from the off, it was all about the food. Padstow’s only 3.5 miles away, that vibrant fishing port bursting with seafood spots, so our first evening was a no-brainer: a short drive to Stein’s for fish and chips that were so fresh they practically flapped off the plate. Crispy batter, mushy peas, and a cheeky pint of ale overlooking the harbour – pure bliss after our tyre drama. Back at the house, we cracked open the hot tub with a bottle of local Roseland cider, toasting the creek view as the sun dipped low.

Next morning, I fancied playing masterchef. The house kitchen’s massive, perfect for a crowd, so we nipped to the weekly market in nearby St Issey for pasties, clotted cream fudge, and plump Cornish sardines. My attempt at a seafood paella? Let’s just say it started promisingly with local mussels and prawns sizzling in the pan, but I overseasoned it something rotten – too much smoked paprika, and it ended up tasting like a bonfire. The family politely choked it down, stifling laughs, while the dogs eyed us hopefully from the corner. Gentle self-reflection there: stick to takeaways next time, eh? Still, it sparked the best evening, all crammed round the huge dining table, swapping stories over the wreckage.

Pub crawls became our rhythm. The Bay View Inn down the road does a cracking Sunday roast – tender beef, Yorkshire puds like clouds, and gravy you could swim in. We walked it off along the creek paths, then hit the London Inn in Padstow for platters of oysters and crab, washed down with a crisp Cornish lager. One night, we even managed a tennis doubles match (more slapstick than Wimbledon), followed by a hot tub feast of takeaways from Rick’s place – lobster rolls that were worth every penny.

By week’s end, bellies full and hearts content, I realised it’s these simple, food-fuelled moments that make a holiday. No fancy agendas, just great grub, good company, and that unbeatable Cornish welcome. If you’re rounding up mates or family, this spot’s a gem – we’re already plotting a return for more mishaps and mussels.