I’ll never forget the drive down to Cornwall – we’d packed the car to the gills with wellies, a cool bag stuffed with pasties from the services, and our spaniel, Monty, who was already eyeing up the boot like it was his personal throne. About an hour from Liskeard, disaster struck: a rogue seagull dive-bombed the windscreen, leaving us splattered and laughing hysterically as I tried to keep the car on the road. “That’s one way to welcome us to the West Country,” my other half quipped, wiping guano off the glass at the next layby. Still, by the time we trundled up the lane, hearts were light with that proper holiday buzz – you know, the one where you’re just dying to kick off your shoes and breathe.

Pulling into the spot, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. This gorgeous barn-style retreat sits there boasting tranquil views over an idyllic rose garden towards those classic Cornish rolling hills – it’s like stepping into a postcard. Inside, it’s all bright, airy vibes with vaulted ceilings and massive windows flooding the place with light, even on a drizzly afternoon. Perfect for us lot, just craving a chilled-out couple’s break with the dog in tow.

We wasted no time settling in. First port of call was a wander around the 34 acres of unspoilt land right on site – Monty went bonkers chasing butterflies through the wildflowers, while we ambled hand-in-hand, soaking up the peace. It’s that simple stuff that hits different on holiday: brewing a proper cuppa in the sunlit kitchen, then flopping on the terrace as the sun dipped low, firing up the barbie for some bangers and burgers. The views from there? Magic. Hills rolling off into the distance, roses nodding in the breeze – pure bliss.

Next morning, we pottered over to the shared facilities – a dip in the hot tub had us giggling like kids, bubbles fizzing around us as Monty splashed at the edge, convinced it was his bath. The communal gym got a cheeky five-minute visit from me (let’s be honest, who needs weights when you’ve got hills to climb?), but mostly we stuck to low-key exploring. A short drive took us to one of those hidden beaches near Looe – think pebbly shores, gentle waves, and barely a soul in sight. We built a rubbish sandcastle (mine looked more like a wonky pasty), let Monty dig trenches, and scoffed fish and chips straight from the paper. Back at the barn, evenings blurred into cottage life chaos: spilling wine while attempting a messy pasta dinner, dancing to Radio 2 in the kitchen, and collapsing into bed with the windows open to the night air.

Looking back, it was dead funny how we’d planned grand adventures but ended up loving the small stuff most – that gentle self-reflection hit me on the last night, staring at the sunset from the terrace. In the rush of everyday life, we forget how recharging it is to just… be. No schedules, no screens, just us, the dog, and this cracking Cornish hideaway. If you’re after a relaxed family couple’s escape (furball included), you won’t go far wrong here. We’re already plotting a return.