I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked it off. We’d piled into the car in the pouring rain somewhere near Exeter, kids buzzing with excitement, me navigating via a dodgy phone signal, and my other half at the wheel. About an hour in, we hit a massive pothole just past Redruth that sent us swerving like we were in a dodgy rally. The hubcap flew off, and for a heart-stopping second I thought we’d end up in a ditch. But we pulled over, laughed it off with some emergency crisps from the boot, and limped into a nearby garage for a quick fix. By the time we trundled into Carbis Bay, the sun was peeking through, and my anticipation was sky-high – visions of sandy beaches and pasties dancing in my head.

Pulling up to the apartment, we were gobsmacked. Bright and spacious with splashes of turquoise and blue mirroring the bay, this lovely apartment has oodles of sumptuous space for relaxation, with an open plan living area creating the ideal layout for socialising. Showcasing terrific sea views and furnished with stylish leather sofas, the space incorporates an amply equipped kitchen where whipping up anything from a humble sandwich to a lavish three-courser is a cinch. A convivial dining area is where you can gather to enjoy the designated cook's creations, and on warmer evenings the sliding doors in the brand new kitchen can be opened to a balcony which has fabulous sea views and a bistro set - the perfect place for a glass of bubbly or two. First impressions? Pure bliss. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of fizz on that balcony, toes up, watching the waves crash below. The kids were already plotting beach invasions.

The next few days melted into that perfect holiday chaos – the kind where cottage life feels gloriously messy but utterly right. Mornings started with a scramble in the kitchen, me burning toast while the little ones raided the fridge for yogurt and demanded “proper” Cornish pasties from Hubby, who’d nobly volunteered as chef. We’d wander down to Carbis Bay Beach, just a stone’s throw away, buckets and spades in tow, building lopsided sandcastles that inevitably got flattened by the tide. The water was bracing – I yelped like a seal the first dip – but the kids splashed about for hours, emerging sandy and shrieking with joy.

Afternoons were for ambling into St Ives proper, no more than a quick hop on the coast path. We poked around the quaint streets, grabbing fish and chips from a hole-in-the-wall spot that wrapped them in proper newspaper, grease dripping everywhere. Porthmeor Beach was our go-to for bodysurfing, with its epic waves drawing a smattering of surfers who made it look effortless (I wiped out spectacularly on my first go, much to the family’s delight). Evenings back at the flat were pure simple pleasures: sliding those doors wide, firing up the bistro set with fairy lights strung up (my clever addition), and tucking into barbecued sausages while the sun dipped into the sea. One night, the kids conked out early after a Lego apocalypse in the living room, leaving us to sip wine and chat about nothing much.

Looking back, it was those little moments that hit home – the way the sea views turned ordinary evenings magical, or how a spilled juice on the leather sofas became a funny story rather than a drama. Holidays like this remind you life’s too short for perfection; it’s the sandy footprints and shared giggles that stick. If you’re after a relaxed family break in St Ives, find yourself a spot like this – it’ll recharge your batteries like nothing else.