I’ll never forget the drive down to Watchet – that winding A39 hugging the Somerset coast, with the sea winking at us through the hills. We’d set off from Bristol full of beans, me behind the wheel, the missus navigating on her phone, and the kids in the back already squabbling over crisps. But then, classic us, we missed the turning for the town by a good mile, thanks to some daft roadworks that weren’t on the map. Cue a frantic three-point turn on a narrow lane, with a local farmer in his tractor giving me that patient nod like he’d seen it all before. Heart racing a bit, we finally rolled into Watchet just as the sun dipped low, casting this golden glow over the harbour. Honestly, that little mishap made the arrival feel like the start of a proper adventure.

Pulling up to the cottage – this cracking end-terrace spot tucked away in a quiet court off the high street – I felt that buzz of anticipation melt into sheer delight. From the outside, it looked ever so welcoming, like it was just waiting for us to kick off our shoes and flop down. We bundled in, bags everywhere, kids dashing about like puppies, and I fumbled the keys for a second because my hands were full of picnic leftovers from the car. Minor chaos, but it had us all laughing within minutes. Stepping into the open-plan living area was a treat – that luxury leather sofa practically begged you to sink into it, and there was this comfy recliner armchair that I claimed straight away for my evening reads. The contemporary kitchen was a godsend too; I rustled up some beans on toast in no time with all the gadgets to hand, while the family unpacked upstairs.

Up those stairs, the two bedrooms were spot on – a king-size double that felt like a hug after our drive, and a standard double for the kids, both with tellies for lazy mornings and solid oak bits to chuck our stuff in. First impressions? Blimey, it was cosier than I’d dared hope, especially after our sat-nav shenanigans. We wasted no time heading out for a gentle evening stroll down to Watchet’s harbour, watching the boats bob and breathing in that salty sea air. The next morning, we wandered the coastal path towards Blue Anchor Bay, just a short hop away, skim-hunting on the pebbles and dodging the waves. Lunch was fish and chips from a harbourside spot, eaten on the sea wall with gulls eyeing our chips hopefully.

It got me reflecting a tad, sat there on the sofa that first night with a cuppa, feet up. Holidays like this remind you how daft little hiccups – like that daft wrong turn – often lead to the best bits. No fancy plans needed; just this unspoilt coastline, a cracking family base, and time to switch off. We explored Watchet’s quirky marina, popped into the little shops for fudge, and even nipped up to the wooded paths behind town for a bit of a ramble. By the end of our stay, I was already plotting a return. Somerset’s coast has this magic – raw, peaceful, and utterly addictive. If you’re after a proper unwind, you can’t go wrong here.