I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon – we’d packed the car to the gills with wellies, board games, and enough snacks to feed a small army, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky detour through some narrow lanes that had me white-knuckling the wheel. “Are we lost?” the kids piped up from the back, munching their way through the crisps already. A classic family road trip mishap, but honestly, it just built the excitement. As we crested the hill and spotted the glittering sea, my heart did a little flip. We were nearly there, and boy, was I ready for this.

Pulling up to the property, I was gobsmacked – it’s one of those cute terraced cottages right by the harbour in Kingsbridge, all cosy and nautical with a prime spot that feels like it’s floating on the water. First impressions? Spot on. The views from the top-floor windows had us all grinning like idiots; boats bobbing about, gulls wheeling overhead, and that fresh sea air rushing in. We dumped the bags and cracked open a pack of biscuits on the balcony straight away, toasting to a week of proper downtime.

Settling in was pure cottage chaos in the best way. The kids claimed the bunk beds and turned the lounge into a fort with every cushion in sight, while I fumbled about the galley kitchen trying to rustle up spag bol without setting off the smoke alarm. There’s something magic about these self-catering spots – no rigid hotel schedules, just us lot pottering around, feet up on the sofa with a cuppa, watching the tide roll in and out. Mornings kicked off with lazy brekkies of toast and Marmite, then we’d wander down to the pebbly beach just a stone’s throw away, skimming stones and paddling in the shallows until our toes went numb.

One afternoon, we hired a little rowboat from the harbour – nothing fancy, just the four of us splashing about, the little ones giggling as we nearly capsized over a rogue wave. “You’re rubbish at this, Dad!” my youngest laughed, and I couldn’t argue. Evenings were for fish and chips wrapped in paper, eaten on the balcony as the sun dipped behind the hills, with the harbour lights twinkling like fairy lights. We squeezed in a gentle stroll along the estuary path too, spotting herons and picking blackberries that ended up more in our tummies than any pie.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, mind. I had one of those moments mid-week, staring out at the sunset while the kids bickered over the last Jaffa Cake. Am I rushing life too much back home? This break was a nudge – slow down, savour the simple stuff like salty air and sandy socks drying by the radiator. Devon does that to you. By the time we packed up, I was already plotting our return. If you’re after a chilled family escape, this corner of South Hams is pure gold – total bliss.