I’ll never forget the drive up to Whitby – we’d set off from Leeds full of beans, singing along to the radio, but then halfway there, the sat nav decided to have a hissy fit and sent us down some winding moorland lane that felt like it was leading straight into a sheep ambush. One particularly cheeky ram stared us down as if to say, “You’re not from round here, are you?” We laughed it off, but by the time we rolled into town, we were starving and a tad frazzled. Still, spotting the sea and those iconic cliffs lifted our spirits – Whitby was living up to the hype already.

Pulling up to our holiday spot, an attractive four-storey detached cottage dating back to the early 1800s, right in the heart of historic Whitby, I felt that proper buzz of anticipation. Nestled just paces from the vibrant Old Town and scenic waterfront, it’s got this beautifully modernised vibe that keeps all the original character intact, plus a private terrace and rear garden with cracking views over the harbour. Perfect for friends, families or couples wanting a prime base to explore the coast and countryside. We dumped our bags and cracked open a bottle of fizz on the terrace, toasting to the week ahead with the sun dipping behind the abbey ruins.

Food was the absolute star of our stay – Whitby’s got that proper seaside grub scene that had us salivating from day one. First morning, we wandered down to the harbour and hit the fish market, where the air’s thick with the smell of fresh catch. Bargain-hunted for some plump cod and glistening mackerel, then dashed back to the cottage to have a bash at cooking it ourselves. I’m no Jamie Oliver, mind – my attempt at battering the fish turned into a gloopy disaster, leaving the kitchen looking like a flour bomb had gone off. We salvaged it by pan-frying with a bit of lemon and herbs from the garden, scoffing it al fresco on the terrace with chips from the local chippy. Proper lush, even if I say so myself.

Evenings were pub crawl heaven. The Endeavour just down the hill does the best fish and chips this side of the county – crispy batter, mushy peas, and a pint of bitter to wash it down. We got chatting to locals about the best spots, and they tipped us off for The Black Horse in the Old Town, where the seafood platters are legendary. One night, we shared a massive one piled with prawns, scallops, and Whitby scampi, laughing over how I’d nearly toppled off my stool after one too many. Another highlight was the Sunday roast at The Golden Lion – tender Yorkshire beef, roasties to die for, and gravy that could make you weep. We even tried our hand at a cottage supper one night: sourced smoked kippers from the market, paired them with scrambled eggs and toast. Simple, but it hit the spot with those harbour views.

Markets were our daily pilgrimage – the Pannier Market’s a treasure trove for local cheeses, pies, and fudge. Grabbed some Whitby jet (for nibbles, obviously) and plump sausages for a fry-up. Reflecting on it now, sat on that terrace with a brew, I realised it’s these little rituals – the cooking fails, the pub yarns, the market hauls – that make a holiday stick. No fancy restaurants needed; just good nosh, great mates, and Whitby’s unbeatable vibe. We left fuller, happier, and already plotting the next trip.