I’ll never forget the drive down to north Devon – we’d packed the car to the brim with enough food for a siege, kids’ beach toys spilling out the boot, and me navigating via a dodgy phone signal that kept rerouting us through every tractor-lined lane in existence. Halfway there, disaster struck: a rogue cow decided our windscreen was its personal scratching post, leaving a muddy hoof-print smear right across my line of sight. We pulled over laughing (well, mostly), wiped it off with a pack of baby wipes, and carried on, anticipation building as the rolling countryside gave way to estuary glimpses.

Pulling into the quiet village of Prixford felt like slipping into a postcard. Tucked on a working farm with views stretching over the North Devon hills and the Taw Estuary, this renovated eco-friendly barn conversion was our detached haven for the week – perfect for our family of six, though it was just me, my wife, our two lads and their cousins this time. First impressions? Spot on. The characterful interior wrapped us in cosy welcome, blending original charm with smart, contemporary touches. That stylish kitchen/diner became our command centre straight away, granite worktops gleaming under the oak panelling, a cracking range cooker begging to be fired up, and all the kit you’d need – dishwasher humming, coffee maker gurgling – for proper self-catering bliss.

We wasted no time diving into the simple joys. Mornings started with brekkie chaos: everyone piling in for bacon butties and fresh eggs from the farm (the owners left a welcome basket that had us grinning). Then it was out into the fresh air – a short stroll to the farm paths for blackberrying, the kids turning it into a full-on berry war, purple stains everywhere. Afternoons meant lazy estuary walks, spotting herons and seals bobbing in the Taw, or a quick hop to nearby Croyde Beach for sandcastle marathons and paddling in the surf. The underfloor heating was a godsend after chilly coastal jaunts, warming our toes as we sprawled by the fire with board games, the rain pattering outside like it does half the time in Devon.

One evening, as the sun dipped low over the countryside, we cracked open a bottle of local cider and played ridiculous games of charades – my attempt at a heron had the lot of them in hysterics, me flapping about like a daft bird. It was pure cottage life: a bit of lovely disorder with muddy wellies by the door, forgotten towels on the sofa, but that’s the magic, isn’t it? No schedules, just us reconnecting amid the gentle farm sounds. Sat there later, pint in hand, I had a quiet moment reflecting – in the rush of daily grind back home, we forget how these unhurried spots recharge the soul. Varley Lodge nailed it for our relaxed family break; if you’re after coast, country and a smidge of farmyard fun without the crowds, this is your spot. We’re already plotting a return.