I’ll never forget the drive down to our holiday spot in North Devon – what should’ve been a straightforward motorway slog turned into a comedy of errors thanks to my daft decision to trust the sat-nav over a proper map. We’d piled into the car at dawn, me, my other half, our two lads, and my sister’s clan, all buzzing with that pre-holiday excitement. But halfway through Somerset, the thing decided to reroute us via some winding B-road that felt like it was auditioning for a rally stage. Bumping along, with the kids chanting “Are we there yet?” and the boot spilling picnic gear every time we hit a pothole, I nearly lost it when we got stuck behind a tractor for a good 20 minutes. By the time we spotted the signs for Braunton, we were all a bit frazzled, covered in crisp crumbs, and questioning my driving credentials.

Pulling up to this stunning holiday home just outside Marwood, though, all that chaos melted away like ice cream on Saunton Sands. It’s a proper gem – seven restful bedrooms and bathrooms spread across a spacious plot, perfect for our ragtag extended family of 12. We’d been anticipating the arrival all week, dreaming of kicking back after the journey, and the first impressions? Blimey, they hit like a warm hug. The place sits right in that National Landscape, with views that make you gasp, and it’s so close to Braunton village you could wander down for a pint without breaking a sweat. We tumbled out of the car, arms full of bags, and the kids immediately legged it to explore the garden, whooping about the space to run wild.

First order of business was unpacking amid the laughter – someone’s flip-flop vanished under the sofa (still haven’t found it), and I managed to spill tea on the welcome pack while trying to be the organised one. But honestly, that just added to the fun. We cracked open a few tins, raided the local Co-op for essentials, and within an hour, we were sorted. The house felt like it was made for us lot – cosy corners for chats, a big kitchen for faffing about with barbecues, and enough bathrooms to avoid the usual morning queues.

Next day, we headed the three miles to Saunton Sands, where the golden coastline lived up to the hype. The boys were straight in the sea, body-boarding like pros, while we parents lounged with pasties from Braunton’s high street. That village is a proper treat – buzzing with independent shops, cracking pubs like The Britten Arms for a cheeky cider, and cafes doling out cream teas that’d make Granny proud. We even wandered Braunton Burrows’ sand dunes, getting sand in places sand shouldn’t go, and spotted wildlife that had the nature-mad niece in raptures.

A gentle wander through the meandering trails nearby had me reflecting on how these getaways remind you what matters – not the sat-nav faff-ups or lost flip-flops, but proper time with the tribe, waves crashing, and that fresh Devon air. We didn’t make it to surfing lessons at the Museum of British Surfing yet (next time, lads), but with Croyde and the like just a short hop away, who needs anywhere else? If you’re rounding up the clan for a North Devon jaunt, this is the spot – mishaps and all, it’s magic.