I’ll never forget the drive down to Weymouth – we’d packed the car to the brim with beach toys, cool bags, and enough snacks to feed a small army, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a proper snarl-up just outside Dorchester. Some cheeky diversion had us crawling along behind a tractor for what felt like hours, with the kids in the back chanting “are we there yet?” like a broken record. Me and the wife just exchanged that weary parent look, chuckling through gritted teeth. But as we finally crested the hill into Weymouth, with the sea sparkling under the sun and the esplanade buzzing below, all that stress melted away. I could already taste the fish and chips in the air.

Pulling up to our ground-floor apartment right on the esplanade was pure joy – prime spot, just a stone’s throw from the golden sands. It’s the sort of place that screams relaxed family getaway: all on one level (bar a few steps down to the twin room, which kept our little ones giggling as they tumbled in), with a grand hallway that opened straight into this massive living room-diner. Those sash windows framed the sea like a postcard, flooding the place with light and making every cuppa feel like a front-row seat to the waves crashing in.

First impressions? Spot on. We dumped the bags and legged it to the beach, toes in the sand before the kettle had even boiled. Weymouth’s got that proper seaside charm – donkey rides plodding along the shore, the Jubilee Clock Tower standing proud, and Nothe Fort just a short stroll away for a bit of pirate pretend-play. The kids built epic sandcastles while we lounged with ice creams from the nearby kiosks, watching paddleboarders wobble about. Evenings were bliss: firing up the barbecue on the little patio (sea views included), then a wander along the esplanade to grab fresh crab from the harbour stalls. Nothing fancy, just simple joys – the sort that make you forget the school run back home.

Of course, it wasn’t all serene cottage bliss. Picture this: morning number two, I’m attempting a full English in the well-kitted kitchen, only for the youngest to turn the volume up on CBeebies so loud the neighbours probably heard Peppa Pig over the breakers. Chaos ensued with spilled baked beans and a conga line round the dining table. I caught myself laughing in the mirror later, apron smeared, thinking, “Blimey, when did we turn into that happy, messy family from a holiday ad?” It’s those daft moments that stick, aren’t they? A gentle nudge that life’s too short not to embrace the madness.

We filled the days with low-key adventures – crabbing off the harbour walls, a splash in the sea pool at Greenhill (five minutes’ walk), and ice cream at Bennet’s Chocolate Shop, where the portions are criminally generous. Sunsets from the living room were magical, pint in hand, kids knackered out on the sofa. It was the perfect reset: no rush, no schedules, just us, the sea, and a bit of joyful disorder. If you’re after that cosy family vibe in Weymouth, find yourself a spot like this – you won’t regret it.