I’ll never forget the drive to our little 1 Bed Lodge in Gosbeck – a proper Suffolk jaunt that started with the classic British holiday cock-up. We’d piled into the car from Norwich, me, my wife Sarah, and our two lads, Finn and Theo, aged 8 and 5, buzzing with excitement for three days of countryside unplugging. About halfway there, just past Stowmarket, Theo decided it was the perfect moment to unleash a full packet of Haribo onto the back seat. Sticky tangles everywhere, Finn yelling “Mum, he’s turned it into a sweet swamp!” and me pulling over on a narrow lane to hoover it up with the car’s dodgy handheld. Sarah just laughed, handing out wet wipes like a pro. “Welcome to family road trips,” she said. Twenty minutes later, we trundled into Gosbeck, that quintessential Suffolk village where the roads narrow to single tracks flanked by hedgerows bursting with blackberries.

Pulling up to the lodge felt like stumbling into a hug from an old mate. Tucked in a peaceful spot off the lane, it’s this cosy wooden haven with a pitched roof and a veranda that screams “put your feet up.” The owner, a cheery local chap named Mike, met us with keys in hand and a nod to the nearby pub. “Helped yourself to eggs from the hens if you fancy,” he grinned, pointing to a basket by the door. We lugged in our bags – well, I say lugged, more like wrestled past the boys’ cricket bats and Sarah’s endless picnic hamper – and stepped inside. Blimey, it was perfect. One bedroom upstairs with a snug double bed piled high with quilts, and a zip-away camp bed that the lads claimed immediately, turning it into their “fortress of doom.”

First impressions? Pure bliss wrapped in a bit of charming chaos. The open-plan living area downstairs is all exposed beams and a wood-burning stove (we didn’t light it, mind, with the late summer sun streaming in). The kitchenette’s compact but kitted out lovely – kettle on for a proper cuppa, and we cracked open some Suffolk-brewed Adnams while unpacking. Finn spotted the board games shelf straight away: “Monopoly? Yes!” Theo, meanwhile, discovered the French windows leading to that veranda, flinging them open to chase imaginary dragons across the lawn. The garden’s a riot of wildflowers and a couple of bird feeders, alive with robins and the odd cheeky squirrel eyeing our crisps.

We didn’t venture far that first afternoon – why would you? Gosbeck’s got that lazy Suffolk rhythm. A short wander down the footpath took us to St Mary’s Church, this ancient beauty with a wonky tower that’s been standing since the Normans. The boys darted about the graveyard, inventing ghost stories, while Sarah and I sat on a bench soaking in the quiet. Back at the lodge, we fired up the BBQ (a dinky one on the patio) for sausages and corn on the cob, the air thick with woodsmoke and laughter. Minor lodge-life pandemonium ensued when Theo knocked over the sauce bottle, splattering Finn’s knees – “You’ve created a ketchup monster!” I howled, mopping it up as the sun dipped behind the trees.

As evening settled, we sprawled on the sofa with a Jenga tower that kept toppling (much to Theo’s glee), reflecting on how these simple spots recharge the soul. Work stresses? Forgotten. School runs? Miles away. Just us, this wee lodge, and Suffolk’s gentle magic. Staring out at the starry sky from the veranda, pint in hand, I had one of those quiet moments: we’re so lucky to hit pause like this, amid the sweet wrappers and sibling squabbles. Can’t wait to wake up to birdsong tomorrow. This is holiday heaven.