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 drizzle of a Bristol morning, kids buzzing with excitement, me navigating via a dodgy phone signal that kept rerouting us through every tractor-lined lane in Cornwall. Then, about 20 minutes from Carbis Bay, disaster struck: a rogue seagull dive-bombed the windscreen, splattering it with what looked like revenge for every pasty pinched on the beach. Cue panicked swerves, the kids in hysterics (half-laughing, half-screaming), and me pulling over for an emergency wipe-down with a pack of baby wipes. “Welcome to family holidays,” I muttered, chuckling at the chaos. But honestly, it set the perfect tone – nothing’s ever straightforward with little ones, and that’s half the fun.

By the time we trundled into Carbis Bay, the sun was peeking through, and my heart lifted. This luxury penthouse, perched right above the bay, hit us with great first impressions straight away. It’s the sort of place ideally positioned to soak up that picture-perfect coastal scene – overlooking St Ives Bay and the pristine Blue Flag beach below. Panoramic sea views from nearly every room? Tick. We stepped onto the private terrace and conservatory, and blimey, the wow factor was instant – uninterrupted vistas that made you forget the seagull saga entirely. Four plush reclining leather chairs begged us to flop down, and wouldn’t you know it, we spotted a pod of dolphins arcing through the waves on day one. The kids were mesmerised; I was already plotting how to bottle this serenity.

It slept us four perfectly – two comfy bedrooms for our young family – and felt like a proper escape without any fuss. Mornings kicked off with brekkie on the terrace, toast and marmalade while watching surfers dot the bay. We’d amble down to Carbis Bay Beach for sandcastle marathons and paddles in the shallows, the kids turning into sandy gremlins who’d chase crabs and shriek at jellyfish. Porthminster Beach was a quick stroll away for ice creams from the kiosk – nothing beats a 99 with a flake on a sunny afternoon. Evenings meant simple suppers of fish and chips from Porthmeor, eaten picnic-style back on the terrace as the sun dipped, painting the sea all golden.

There was chaos, mind – the four-year-old once tipped a full bucket of beach toys off the balcony (thank goodness for sturdy railings), and bedtime battles involved tales of pirate dolphins to settle them. But that’s cottage life for you: messy, joyful, utterly real. One quiet evening, glass of wine in hand, gazing out as the bay twinkled, I had a proper moment of reflection. Amid the whirlwind of parenting, these stays remind you to slow down, breathe in the salt air, and just be. No grand plans, just us, the sea, and those simple pleasures that recharge the soul. We left buzzing to return – St Ives has that magic.