I’ll never forget the drive up to Scarborough – we’d packed the car to the brim with beach toys, snacks, and enough changes of clothes for a month, even though it was just a week away. The kids were buzzing in the back, singing along to some dodgy playlist I’d thrown together, when disaster struck just past York: a massive pothole sent our favourite travel mug flying, spilling tea all over the passenger seat. Cue much faffing about with wet wipes and me muttering about British roads under my breath. Still, by the time we rolled into town, the anticipation had built up – the sea air was already whipping through the windows, and I could practically taste the chips.

Pulling up to Apartment 3, we were chuffed to bits. It’s this homely first-floor spot right in the heart of Scarborough, all bright and colourful with that lovely teal décor that makes you feel instantly at ease. Tastefully done without being fussy, it was the perfect base for our seaside jaunt – and you can book it alongside a few mates’ places nearby (Refs. 958912, 958913, 958919, 958921, and 958922) if you’re going big with the family, sleeping up to 24 in total. We dumped the bags, cracked open a window to let in the sound of gulls, and straight away it felt like home.

First impressions? Spot on. The place was spotless, cosy, and just the right size for us lot – me, the wife, our two under-tens, and the dog tagging along for the ride. No airs and graces, just proper holiday vibes. We unpacked amid the usual chaos: kids claiming the best bunk spots while I wrestled with the wonky kettle. That evening, we wandered down to the South Bay beach, just a short stroll away, buckets in hand for some sandcastle engineering. The tide was out, revealing all those rock pools teeming with crabs – the little ones spent hours poking about, shrieking with delight every time they found a tiny shrimp. I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself, knee-deep in seaweed, feeling like a big kid again.

The next few days blurred into that glorious cottage-life rhythm. Mornings kicked off with brekkie on the go – toast and Marmite before hitting the beach for donkey rides and peering over the harbour wall at the fishing boats chugging in with their catch. Afternoons were for the gentle chaos: building epic sand forts that inevitably collapsed under a cheeky wave, or nipping to the Italian Gardens for ice creams that dripped faster than you could lick ’em. One rainy patch had us piling into the living room for board games and hot chocolate, the teal walls glowing under the lamps – pure hygge, Yorkshire style. I had a quiet moment one evening, sat on the balcony watching the sun dip over the North Bay, reflecting on how these simple pleasures – the salt in the air, the kids’ muddy footprints everywhere – are what recharge the batteries. No grand adventures needed; just family, sea, and a bit of lovingly finished homeliness.

Scarborough delivered on every level for our relaxed break. If you’re after that unpretentious seaside escape, this is your spot. We’re already plotting the return – potholes and all.