I’ll never forget the drive down to Wiltshire last month – we’d packed the car with enough cheese and crackers to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a massive traffic jam just past Swindon. Half an hour of inching along, with the kids moaning about needing the loo, and me pretending I knew a shortcut. Classic me, always the optimist with zero sense of direction. But as we finally rolled into Salisbury, the sun breaking through the clouds, all that stress melted away. Spotting our holiday cottage – a cosy premium three-bed number, all welcoming and tucked away just right – I felt that proper holiday buzz kick in.

First impressions? Spot on. It had this lovely homely vibe, perfect for a family getaway, with everything we needed to settle in quick. We dumped the bags and headed straight out for a nose around the local spots, stomachs rumbling after the road woes. Salisbury’s got that unpretentious charm, and we zeroed in on the markets first thing. The high street market was buzzing that Saturday morning – stalls piled high with fresh veg, artisan breads, and the most tempting cheeses you’ve ever seen. I grabbed a hunk of Wiltshire Blue, some ripe tomatoes, and a bunch of herbs, dreaming of knocking up a proper ploughman’s lunch back at the cottage.

Cooking became our daily ritual, half adventure, half comedy show. Day one, I fancied myself as a chef, rustling up a roast chicken with those market spuds and a bit of stuffing from a local butcher’s sausagemeat we’d snaffled. It came out golden, if a tad overdone on one side – blame the wonky oven, not my skills! The kids wolfed it down with gravy made from the pan juices, and we washed it up with a bottle of decent red from the corner offy. Proper feast, sat round the kitchen table, laughing about my carving disasters.

Evenings were for the pubs, and Wiltshire does them proud within a stone’s throw. The Haunch of Venison, just up the road, was our first pitstop – one of those timeless boozers with low ceilings and a fire crackling away. We went for fish and chips, crispy batter and chunky cod, with mushy peas on the side that were spot-on. Pints of bitter to match, and the barman’s yarns about local folklore had us hooked. Next night, it was the Wyvern Stores for a curry night special – lamb rogan josh that packed a gentle punch, naan bread fresh from the tandoor, and sides of sag aloo that had me sneaking seconds. I even tried their house lager, which went down a treat after a day mooching the cheese market (did you know Salisbury’s got a proper cheese festival vibe going on?).

One afternoon, I had a right go at a full English brekkie using market eggs, bacon from a nearby farm stall, and black pudding that was surprisingly good. It was a messy triumph – sausages a smidge burnt, but the fried bread soaked up the juices perfectly. Sat there with tea steaming, I had one of those quiet moments, thinking how these simple meals, shared with the family, beat any fancy restaurant. Makes you reflect on what really matters, doesn’t it? No faff, just good grub and good company.

We wrapped up with a final pub lunch at the New Inn – Sunday roast beef with all the trimmings, Yorkshire puds like clouds, and gravy to die for. Left the cottage stuffed and happy, already plotting the next food-focused jaunt. Wiltshire’s a gem for it – markets, pubs, and that easy home cooking magic. Can’t wait to go back.