I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives – we’d been buzzing with excitement for weeks, dreaming of that proper Cornish getaway, but of course, nothing goes smoothly with two kids in tow. About halfway there, just past Launceston, the satnav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a wild detour through some tiny lanes that felt narrower than our fridge. We ended up in a field with a flock of sheep giving us the evil eye, and me frantically reversing while my other half tried not to laugh. “Typical us,” I said, finally back on track, hearts racing but grinning like idiots. Still, by the time we crested the hill towards Carbis Bay, the sea sparkling below and the sun dipping low, all that stress melted away. First impressions? Pure magic – we knew we’d landed lucky.

Pulling up to our four-bedroom detached lodge right in the Una St Ives Resort felt like stepping into someone’s dream holiday pad. It’s this beautifully styled spot over two floors, perfect for us as a family – me, my partner, our two little ones, and even the dog tagging along for the ride. Parked right beside it, we tumbled in through the entrance hallway with its handy cloakroom, straight into this massive open-plan living space that just screams sociable. Sofas for flopping in front of the Smart TV, woodburning stove for those cosier evenings (though we didn’t need it with the balmy weather), a big dining table for plotting beach days over brekkie, and a kitchen so pristine and kitted out that even my amateur efforts at pasties didn’t look half bad. It was home-away-from-home from the off, all contemporary vibes without feeling too posh for sandy feet.

We wasted no time diving into that relaxed family rhythm – simple pleasures like morning walks down to Carbis Bay beach, just a hop away. The kids built epic sandcastles while we sipped coffee from a thermos, toes in the water, watching the waves roll in. Afternoons meant ambling into St Ives, no more than a quick bus or stroll, weaving through the harbour where the fishing boats bobbed and the air smelled of chips and sea salt. We grabbed pasties from a proper bakery – none of that tourist rubbish – and let the little ones chase gulls along the promenade. Evenings back at the lodge were pure cottage chaos: one kid spilling juice on the sofa (easily wiped up), the dog snoring by the stove, us rustling up a feast at that dream kitchen table, laughing over who’d burned the sausages on the BBQ outside.

There was this gentle moment one sunset, sat on the deck with a cuppa, watching the bay turn golden. I caught myself thinking how we’d been rushing through life back home, always chasing the next thing. Here, it was just us, unplugging, letting the days blur into sand, pasties, and family giggles. No grand plans, just that lovely, messy joy of being together. A week flew by in a haze of paddling pools, clifftop paths to Porthminster Beach, and one hilarious failed attempt at a beach picnic when the wind turned our sandwiches into kites. Self-reflection aside, it was the perfect reset – St Ives has that knack of making you feel alive without trying too hard. We’re already plotting a return; who wouldn’t?