I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon – we’d packed the car to the brim with wellies, a cool bag stuffed with picnic bits, and enough board games to last a nuclear winter. My other half was navigating via her phone, insisting we’d shave half an hour off by taking that sneaky B-road. Big mistake. We ended up behind a tractor trundling along at snail’s pace, the kids in the back chanting “Are we there yet?” like a broken record. I was this close to turning it into a full-blown singalong just to drown them out. But hey, it built the anticipation – by the time we crested that hill and spotted the cluster of cottages nestled by the lake, we were buzzing.

Pulling up to our detached holiday home, part of this lovely collection at Little Dunley Cottages, it hit me straight away: this was proper family heaven. Sleeping up to six, it was spot-on for us – me, the wife, our two lads, and the dog who’d somehow wriggled his way into the holiday roster. First impressions? Magic. The place had that welcoming glow, with on-site playgrounds and a shimmering lake right there, Dartmoor’s wild edges teasing us from afar. We tumbled out, bags flying everywhere, and within minutes the boys were off exploring the shared games room, while we cracked open a cuppa on the patio, grinning like idiots.

The next few days melted into this blissful chaos of cottage life. Mornings kicked off with lazy brekkies – I’d man the toaster (burnt edges and all), while the wife rustled up eggs from the local farm shop we’d nipped to in Bovey Tracey. Then it was lake time: hiring rowboats from the on-site jetty, the lads splashing about like seals, me pretending I knew how to fish but mostly just untangling lines and laughing at my own incompetence. One afternoon, we had a proper comedy of errors – picnic blanket out by the water, but the wind whipped up and sent our crisps sailing into the lake. Cue Dad diving in like a hero (up to my knees, mind), fishing them out soggy but salvaged. The boys thought it was the highlight of the trip.

We wandered the easy paths around the grounds, spotting moorhens and dragonflies, then drove the short hop to nearby Haytor for a gentle clamber – nothing too strenuous, just enough to work up an appetite for cream teas back at the cottage. Evenings were pure simple joy: barbecues on the patio (with the obligatory singed sausages), telly marathons, and the kids conking out early from fresh air overload. One night, sat there with a glass of wine as the sun dipped behind the tor, I had a quiet moment of self-reflection. Work stress? Miles away. Here, it was just us, unplugged and uncomplicated. Who needs Maldives when you’ve got Devon’s quiet charm?

By the end, packing up felt brutal – the car was a tip again, and the boys were begging to stay forever. Little Dunley nailed that relaxed family vibe, with Dartmoor and Devon’s delights practically on the doorstep. We’re already plotting a return. If you’re after cottage chaos with a side of serenity, this is your spot.