The drive down to South Wales was meant to be a breeze, but typical me, I took a wrong turn just past the M4 and ended up navigating some winding back lanes that had the sat-nav throwing a proper hissy fit. We were laughing about it though, me and the wife, with the kids in the back yelling "Are we there yet?" every five minutes. By the time we crested that final hill into Govilon, the stress melted away – there it was, our fabulous elevated property nestled right into the hillside, those far-reaching views stretching out over the Bannau Brycheiniog National Park like a proper postcard. First impressions? Blimey, we were buzzing. Abergavenny's market town buzz was just a quick hop away, but this spot felt like our own little secret hideaway.

Pulling up, I could already picture the week ahead: no rush, just us lot soaking up the space. It's spread over three floors, seven comfy bedrooms dotted about so no one's squabbling over the best spot, and bathrooms galore – two family ones and a couple of en-suites – meaning mornings wouldn't descend into total chaos. Perfect for a family crew like ours, plenty of room to bunch up together or sneak off for a breather. We dumped the bags and cracked open a cuppa on the terrace, watching the sun dip behind the hills. That anticipation I'd built up all week? Totally lived up to it.

First full day, we wandered into Govilon itself – it's this cracking little village on the edge of the park, with a cosy pub where we grabbed fish and chips that tasted like they'd been caught that morning. The kids dashed about the garden, rediscovering how to play without screens, while we adults pretended we weren't knackered from the drive. Evenings were pure cottage bliss: board games that spiralled into daft arguments (Monopoly nearly caused a divorce, second time around), followed by stargazing from the upper terrace. No light pollution here – the Milky Way was on full show, making you feel properly small in the best way.

We ventured out for gentle rambles along the nearby canal towpath, the Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal, where the narrowboats chugged by and herons posed like they owned the place. One afternoon, we nipped into Abergavenny for their famous market – stuffed ourselves on Welsh cakes and local cheeses, haggling like pros even though we had no clue. Back at the property, the chaos kicked in: a picnic lunch that turned into a flour-fight baking session (note to self: never let the kids near scones unsupervised), but it was the good kind, the sort that leaves you grinning through the mess.

Mid-week, I had one of those quiet moments on the lower terrace, cup of tea in hand, watching the family sprawl out in the living room below. We're always rushing about back home, but here? It hit me – these simple pleasures, the laughter echoing off the hills, the way the views made worries shrink – that's what recharges the batteries. No grand adventures needed, just this relaxed vibe, cottage life in all its gloriously shambolic glory. We left with full hearts and a promise to return. South Wales, you've got us hooked.