I’ll never forget the drive down to Curracloe in County Wexford – we’d set off from Dublin full of beans, sandwiches packed and the sat-nav chirping away happily. But about halfway, just past Gorey, the thing decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a wild goose chase down some narrow boreen that looked more like a farmer’s driveway than a main road. We ended up in a field with cows staring at us judgmentally, laughing our socks off as we reversed out. Typical us, but it only added to the anticipation – by the time we finally rolled into the village, I was buzzing to see this lovely detached cottage we’d booked.

Pulling up, my first impressions were spot on: it’s tucked away on a quiet residential estate full of similar properties, the sort of place that screams peaceful family getaway. The cottage itself is perfect – bright, spacious kitchen with a dining area and French doors spilling out onto a sunny patio, ideal for a cuppa while watching the kids run riot. Inside, the sitting room’s a dream with its cosy open fire and those squashy sofas that swallow you whole after a day out. The enclosed garden’s a winner too, complete with a playhouse that had our little ones pretending it was a pirate ship before we’d even unpacked.

But the real magic of Curracloe isn’t the postcard beaches – though the safe, sandy stretch right nearby, framed by dunes, is brilliant for a dip – it’s the hidden gems you stumble on when you take a wrong turn. That sat-nav mishap? It sparked our whole trip. Instead of heading straight to the obvious spots like Ballinesker Beach (you know, the Saving Private Ryan one), we got properly lost on the back lanes and found ourselves at this tiny, unmarked cove just beyond the dunes. No crowds, just us, seals popping their heads up, and waves gentle enough for paddling. Pure bliss.

The next day, wandering off the beaten track again, we veered into Raven Point Nature Reserve by accident – it’s right there on the edge of the village, but feels worlds away. We parked up and followed a sneaky path through the woods, emerging onto a secluded beach where the sand squeaks underfoot and the only company was a family of oystercatchers. I sat there with a flask of tea, watching the lads build epic sandcastles, and had one of those gentle moments of self-reflection: when did I get so caught up in the daily grind that I forgot how good it feels to just… be? No phones, no plans, just the sea whispering secrets.

Evenings were for firing up the BBQ on the patio – sausages sizzling while the kids played in the garden – then collapsing by the fire with a glass of wine. One night, a wrong turn on a post-dinner stroll led us to a hidden woodland spot with fairy doors nailed to trees (Curracloe’s got that whimsical Irish charm). We made up stories about the fairies, giggling like idiots.

Wexford’s seaside villages like this are gold for families – close enough to the action but with those off-the-beaten-path surprises if you embrace getting lost. We left with sandy toes, full hearts, and a promise to return. If you’re after a proper unwind, this is the spot.