I’ll never forget the drive up to Glencoe – we’d packed the car to the gills with wellies, board games and enough crisps to siege a castle, only for the sat-nav to chuck a wobbly just past Crianlarich. It rerouted us down some single-track road that had me white-knuckling the wheel, convinced we’d end up in a peat bog. But as we crested the hill, there it was: that jaw-dropping valley unfolding like a scene from a postcard, mist clinging to the munros and deer grazing by the roadside. All the stress melted away; we were buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation, windows down, singing along to some terrible 90s playlist.

Pulling up to the apartment – a cosy, modern wee spot tucked into the hillside with big windows framing the drama outside – we were smitten from the off. It had that just-right feel: comfy sofas for sprawling, a kitchen kitted out for batch-cooking pasta, and a view that made you forget you’d ever left home. The kids bolted straight out to poke around the garden, while I cracked open a tea and just breathed it all in. First impressions? Ten out of ten. We’d struck gold for a proper family unwind.

Glencoe’s a cracker for keeping everyone happy without the faff. We kicked off with gentle walks along the well-marked paths snaking through the glen – nothing too gnarly, just enough to work up an appetite for picnic lunches of cheese rolls and flask coffee. The little ones loved spotting red squirrels and building pebble cairns by the streams; it’s those simple joys that make cottage life magic. One afternoon, we hired bikes and pootled along the cycle paths towards the deserted beaches nearby – sandy stretches where you can skim stones for hours without another soul in sight. Pure bliss, with the sea whispering and seals bobbing offshore.

Of course, it wasn’t all postcard-perfect. There was the classic holiday chaos: the youngest spilling Ribena on the rug five minutes after we’d vowed to keep it tidy, and me burning the toast while trying to master haggis for supper (lesson learned: stick to fish fingers). But that’s the charm, isn’t it? No schedules, just us lot muddling through together, laughing at the mess. We even squeezed in a family fishing trip on the loch – I hooked a boot, naturally, but the kids caught tiddlers and declared themselves pros.

A highlight was driving the short hop to the Scottish Sea Life Sanctuary; the otters doing somersaults had us in stitches, and it was spot-on for a rainy half-day. Back at base, evenings were for board games by the fire (well, the pretend one – it was electric but cosy enough) and stargazing from the garden, away from city lights. I caught myself one night, pint in hand, watching the kids conk out mid-story, thinking how these daft, relaxed breaks remind you what matters. No Instagram perfection needed.

With Oban and Fort William close by, you’re spoilt for extras – we saved the Jacobite Steam Train for next time, dreaming of that Harry Potter viaduct chug. Glencoe’s walkers’ paradise, with Ben Nevis looming temptingly, but for us, it was about the slow pace: mountain biking trails for the brave, sailing glimpses on the water, and winter sports whispers for another visit. If you’re after family downtime laced with Highland wow, this is the spot. We’re already plotting a return – soggy socks and all.