I’ll never forget the drive to our little holiday spot in County Kerry – we’d been buzzing with excitement for days, dreaming of cosy evenings by the fire and lazy walks through those misty hills. But typical us, about halfway there from Killarney, I took a wrong turn onto some narrow lane that had us convinced we’d stumbled into a leprechaun’s shortcut. The SatNav went into a sulk, chirping nonsense, and we ended up doing a three-point turn in a field gateway with sheep giving us the side-eye. Laughed our heads off, though – nothing like a small mishap to kick off the adventure.

Pulling up to the cottage just 3.5 miles from Beaufort village, my heart did a little flip. It was everything we’d hoped: a traditional detached place, all on one level with that homely feel that wraps you up like a favourite jumper. Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a kitchen stocked with all the bits to rustle up a feast – perfect for us, a family couple escaping the daily grind with our two lads. First impressions? Spot on. The sun was dipping low over the hills, casting this golden glow, and we tumbled out of the car grinning like idiots.

Settling in felt like slipping into slippers after a long day. We cracked open the windows to that fresh Kerry air, laced with the scent of damp grass and wildflowers. No grand plans, just simple pleasures: mornings brewing tea in the sunny kitchen while the boys raided the cupboards for biscuits. One day, we wandered the short stroll into Beaufort – it’s this darling spot with a smattering of shops and a pub where the locals swap yarns over pints. Picked up fresh scones and a wedge of cheese that we devoured back at the cottage, crumbs everywhere, chaos reigning as per usual.

The Kerry Way called to us next – not the full slog, mind, just gentle ambles along those lush paths winding through woods and by sparkling streams. We’d pack a picnic (my attempt at sandwiches was a triumph, surprisingly), find a mossy rock, and watch the clouds scud by. One afternoon, the rain snuck up – classic Ireland – and we dashed back, soaked and giggling, piling into the lounge for board games and hot chocolate. I had this quiet moment then, watching my other half and the kids mid-laughter, thinking how these unpolished bits, the puddle-jumping and daft arguments over Monopoly, are the real magic. Beats any five-star spa, hands down.

Evenings were pure bliss. We’d fire up the oven for a shepherd’s pie, windows steaming up, then flop in front of the telly with Kerry folk tales playing in the background. A quick hop to Killarney’s edge for ice cream one night – 9 miles felt like nothing – but mostly, it was cottage life: the joy of doing nowt but being together. That slight disorder – toys underfoot, laundry piling up – it’s the heartbeat of it all. Left feeling recharged, already plotting our return. Kerry’s got that pull, doesn’t it?