I’ll never forget the drive up to Scarborough – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked off our holiday. We’d piled into the car from Leeds, kids in the back squabbling over crisps, when halfway through the moors, the heavens opened. Proper Yorkshire rain, the kind that turns windscreen wipers into a blur. Then, splash – a massive puddle hid a pothole, and we got a flat tyre. Cue Dad (me) faffing about in the downpour, soaked to the skin, while the family cheered me on from the dry car. An hour later, roadside rescue sorted it, and we rolled into Scalby, that lovely little village just three miles from Scarborough, buzzing with anticipation. What a start!

Pulling up to the property – one of two that make up this grand old Victorian mansion – we were gobsmacked. It’s spread over three floors with loads of space for our eight-strong clan, and the first impressions? Magic. That stunning garden with its patio and BBQ area, plus a bubbling hot tub and a games room downstairs – it screamed family fun. We dumped the bags and cracked open the prosecco, toasting our damp arrival.

Next morning, we were raring for our first walk. Scarborough’s coast is a walker’s dream, and from Scalby, it’s an easy couple of miles along the cliff tops to the beach. Blue skies, not a cloud – perfect. We hiked the headland path towards Northstead Manor Gardens, gulls wheeling overhead, the sea sparkling like it does on those rare good days. The kids raced ahead, spotting rock pools teeming with crabs, while we grown-ups puffed along, filling our lungs with that salty air. We even detoured to the olive oil factory just outside the village for a cheeky tasting – who knew Scarborough had such hidden gems? Lunch was fish and chips on the harbour wall, vinegar dripping everywhere, pure bliss.

But oh, British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Day two dawned grey and drizzly, turning our planned cliff hike to Ravenscar into a squelchy slog. We layered up in waterproofs (lesson learned: always pack the good coats) and trudged the coastal path anyway, wind whipping our faces. The views were still epic – crashing waves on Long Nab beach, seals barking from the rocks – but by halfway, the heavens unleashed again. We sheltered in a bus stop, laughing at our drowned-rat selves, before scarpering back via the lanes to Scalby. Hot tub to the rescue! Soaking those aching legs, we reflected on how these curveballs make the best stories. Me, I secretly loved it – reminds you life’s not all sunshine, and that’s alright.

By holiday’s end, we’d notched up walks in sun, sleet and shine: clifftop strolls to Scarborough Castle one crisp afternoon, muddy village loops on rainy ones. The games room kept the troops happy indoors when needed, ping-pong battles turning into epic tournaments. Those hikes, weather be damned, bonded us – from toddler tantrums in the rain to triumphant ice creams after sunny miles. Scalby’s our spot now; we’re already plotting next year’s soggy adventures. If you fancy making memories like ours, this place delivers.