I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday barn in Shropshire – what should’ve been a straightforward jaunt from the M54 turned into a comedy of errors thanks to my hopeless sense of direction. Sat nav insisted we were nearly there, but no, we ended up looping around some narrow lanes near Whitchurch, arguing over whether to trust Google Maps or the faded signpost pointing to Coton. Just as tempers frayed, we hit a massive pothole that sent my coffee flying all over the dashboard. “Brilliant,” I muttered, wiping it up with a service station napkin while the kids in the back giggled. But honestly, that little mishap made the arrival all the sweeter – like the universe’s way of building anticipation.

Pulling into the peaceful village of Coton, four miles from Whitchurch, we were instantly smitten. There it was: this stunning detached barn, all cosy and inviting with luxurious interiors that screamed ‘kick back and relax’. The enclosed garden looked like a private oasis, and spotting the hot tub tucked away had us whooping already – perfect for family and friends to unwind after a day out. First impressions? Spot on. We tumbled out of the car, bags everywhere, and within minutes were sipping tea on the patio, the quiet hum of village life washing over us. No traffic, no hustle – just birdsong and a gentle breeze.

That first afternoon, we barely left the place. The hot tub was bubbling away like it knew we needed it after the drive, and we spent hours floating about, chatting rubbish and watching the sun dip low. The kids claimed the garden as their kingdom, kicking a football around while I reflected on how I never make time for this at home – always rushing from one thing to the next. Here, time slowed right down, and it felt like a proper reset. A cheeky dip turned into an impromptu splash fight, leaving us all prune-fingered and laughing.

Next morning, we ventured out to nearby Whixall Moss, just three miles away – those boardwalks over the bog were magical, with dragonflies darting about and not a soul in sight. We picnicked by the Llangollen branch of the Shropshire Union canal, watching narrowboats chug past, then headed to Alderford Lake, five miles off, for a spot of fishing and messing about on the water. Hawkstone Park Follies, only six miles down the road, was a highlight too – those quirky towers and follies had us clambering up paths like excited goats, pretending we were explorers. Hodnet Hall Gardens, eight miles away, sealed the deal with its blooming borders and serene ponds; I wandered off alone for a bit, feeling grateful for the simple joy of it all.

By evening, back at the barn, we fired up the hot tub again, muscles aching pleasantly from the day’s adventures. Shropshire’s got this understated charm – no crowds, just proper countryside bliss. That messy arrival? Best mishap ever. It made every moment after feel like a win. If you’re after a laid-back family escape, this corner of the world delivers in spades. We’re already plotting a return.