I’ll never forget the drive up to Foxes Den in County Durham – a proper faff from the off. We’d piled into the car from Darlington station, me, the missus, and our two lads, aged eight and ten, buzzing with the promise of a three-day lodge escape. Sat-nav had us zipping along the A167, but five minutes in, I took a daft wrong turn onto a narrow lane near Hurworth, convinced it was a shortcut. Cue the comedy: we ended up nose-to-tail with a farmer’s tractor chugging along at snail’s pace, hay bales wobbling like they might topple any second. The boys were in hysterics, chanting “Tractor jam! Tractor jam!” while I muttered about “bloody rural sat-navs.” Fifteen minutes later, we extricated ourselves, laughing it off, and proper excitement kicked in as Foxes Den came into view.

Tucked away in a peaceful spot just outside Hurworth, this little lodge felt like stepping into a cosy hug. It’s one of those hot tub hideaways you dream of on grey winter days – wooden-clad, with a pitched roof and fairy lights twinkling along the decking even in daylight. We parked up on the gravel drive, crunching under the tyres, and unloaded amid a whirlwind of bags, wellies, and snacks. First impressions? Blissful seclusion without feeling isolated. You’re surrounded by gentle fields and hedges, the kind of County Durham countryside that rolls out quiet and green, with the odd sheep eyeing you suspiciously over the fence. No main road drone, just birdsong and the distant hum of a lawnmower – proper rural rhythm.

Stepping inside was the real treat. The open-plan living space hit you with warmth: a plush corner sofa piled with cushions, begging for a family sprawl, and a wood-burning stove that hadn’t even been lit yet but promised evenings of toasty glow. Kitchen was a dream for lazy cooks like me – all gleaming worktops, a big fridge stocked with local milk (we’d grabbed some from the nearby farm shop en route), and every gadget you need without the faff. I cracked open a bag of teabags and brewed a proper builder’s cuppa while the lads dashed straight to the bedrooms. Theirs was a bunk-bed haven, complete with fluffy quilts and those little touches like teddy bears on the pillows – instant heroes.

Our room? A serene king-size setup with views out to the garden, and en-suite bliss that made me sigh with relief after the tractor debacle. But the star? That private hot tub on the deck, steaming gently under a pergola, surrounded by loungers. We fired it up straight away, bubbles churning as the sun dipped low. Sat there with a cold beer from the off-licence run in Darlington (just a quick hop away), feet dangling in the froth, I watched the lads splash about, turning it into a pirate ship battle. “Captain Dad, incoming cannonball!” one yelled, drenching me. Chaos, but the best kind – lodge life at its scruffiest.

First dinner was pure simple pleasures: I rustled up fish fingers, chips from the freezer drawer, and peas, eaten at the dining table overlooking the tubs. No fancy restaurants needed; this was our den. As dusk fell, we lit the stove – flames dancing like they were auditioning for a fairy tale – and played board games till the boys conked out. Lying there later, towel-dried hair still damp, I had a quiet moment of reflection. Life’s mad rush back home in the city feels miles away here. Amid the laughter and minor mishaps, it hit me: these unhurried spots remind you what family time’s really about. Not perfection, just presence. Foxes Den nailed it from the off – if you’re after a relaxed County Durham bolt-hole, this is your spot. Can’t wait to go back.