I’ll never forget the drive down to Padstow – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked off our holiday. We’d piled into the car from Bristol, kids in the back squabbling over crisps, and me navigating with a dodgy phone signal. About halfway, just past Launceston, we hit a massive pothole that sent us veering wildly. Heart in my mouth, I pulled over to check the tyres – all good, phew. But it did make us laugh later; classic British road trip, innit? Still, by the time we trundled into that gorgeous corner of Cornwall, the anticipation was buzzing. Padstow’s that perfect postcard Cornish spot, and as we rounded the bend towards our holiday cottage – a cosy, traditional whitewashed beauty right on the edge of it all – I could already smell the sea air. First impressions? Spot on. It felt like home from the off, with sea views peeking through the windows and everything you need for a proper getaway.

We’d planned our whole week around walking – proper hikes along those cracking coastal paths the area’s famous for. Day one dawned bright and breezy, so off we went towards Trevone Bay, just a short stroll from the cottage. The cliffs were alive with gulls, and the kids raced ahead spotting rock pools teeming with crabs. That stretch to Harlyn Bay is a belter – undulating paths with views that make you stop and gawp at the Atlantic crashing below. We picnicked on pasties from a local bakery (don’t ask which, they’re all ace), feet dangling over the edge. Pure joy.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, we eyed up the hike to Stepper Point, that dramatic headland with the lighthouse. Grey skies rolled in quick as we set off from the cottage, but we cracked on, hoods up against the drizzle. The paths turned muddy, slick as anything, and halfway there the heavens properly opened. We sheltered under a gorse bush, laughing at our soggy sandwiches, while the wind whipped the waves into a frenzy. It was bracing, alright – the kind of walk that leaves you glowing but questioning your life choices. The views through the mist were eerie, almost otherworldly, and spotting seals bobbing offshore made it all worthwhile. Back at the cottage, dripping but chuffed, we cranked up the heating and tucked into tea and cake.

By midweek, the sun fought back, and we nailed a cracker of a loop from Padstow Harbour along the Camel Estuary trail. Flat at first, then climbing gently with estuary glimpses and wildflowers everywhere. The tide was out, revealing vast sands we scampered across – kids building epic sandcastles while I pretended not to be knackered. But wouldn’t you know, as we looped back, spots of rain again. We dashed into a tiny beach café for cream teas, emerging to blue skies once more. Cheeky weather, always keeping you on your toes.

Looking back, those walks were the heart of it – good days lifting the spirits, rainy ones forcing us to slow down and chat. I caught myself reflecting one evening, feet up by the cottage window, watching the clouds chase across the bay: we’re so busy rushing about at home, aren’t we? Out here, even the downpours felt like a gift, reminding you to just breathe it all in. Padstow’s walks delivered magic, whatever the forecast. Can’t wait to go back.