I finally made it to Little Silver Fox after a bit of a faff on the drive down from the Midlands – nothing major, just me taking a wrong turn near South Molton and ending up in a muddy farm lane, swearing under my breath as the SatNav recalibrated with that infuriating "recalculating" voice. Classic me, innit? But honestly, as I pulled up to this exquisite little cottage tucked away in High Bickington, North Devon, all that stress melted away like clotted cream on a warm scone.

It was late afternoon when we arrived, the three of us – me, my other half, and our cheeky seven-year-old, Finn – spilling out of the car with bags, wellies, and a cool box that had somehow sprung a leak en route. Little Silver Fox is one of those proper gems: a cosy, stone-built haven with a thatched roof that screams "proper Devon hideaway." From the gravel drive, you clock the quirky fox-themed sign swinging gently in the breeze, and the garden bursts with wildflowers and a couple of bird feeders already alive with bluetits. We were greeted by the owner, a lovely local chap who handed over the keys with a nod to the woodburner ("Plenty of logs in the shed, mind") and a warning about the resident pheasants strutting about like they own the place.

Stepping inside for the first impressions? Blimey, it was love at first sight. The living room's got this massive inglenook fireplace, all beams and character, with squishy sofas begging you to flop down. Finn made a beeline for the board games stacked on the shelf – Kerplunk and Jenga, perfect for lodge life chaos. I could already picture the evenings we'd spend in here, rain pattering on the windows (because Devon weather, eh?). The kitchen was a dream for lazy family breaks: Aga humming away, stocked with local tea towels and a Rayburn that promised endless cups of builder's brew. We unpacked amid giggles as Finn discovered the "fox den" nook under the stairs, complete with cushions and a torch for his imaginary adventures.

First order of business? A wander round the garden. It's enclosed but wild in the best way – apple trees heavy with fruit, a veggie patch that looked like it could feed us for days, and a hammock swaying between two oaks. We spotted deer grazing in the adjacent field, and Finn went full David Attenborough, whispering about "majestic beasts" before chasing a butterfly into a bramble bush. Minor chaos, but that's the joy of it – no schedules, just simple pleasures like picking blackberries for a crumble later. The views? Rolling Devon hills as far as the eye can see, with Chittlehampton's church steeple peeking over the horizon, no more than a couple of miles off if we fancied a pub lunch tomorrow.

As the sun dipped low, painting everything golden, we cracked open a bottle of local Barnstaple cider on the patio. That's when I had a proper moment of self-reflection, sat there with the kids' laughter echoing. Work's been mad lately, deadlines piling up like unwashed pots, but here? Time slows right down. Little Silver Fox isn't some fancy resort; it's a hug from the countryside, reminding you that happiness is muddy boots, a full woodbasket, and no signal to distract you. We lit the barbecue – sausages from the nearby farm shop we'd spotted on the way – and watched the stars pop out one by one. Finn conked out on the sofa mid-story, and I thought, yeah, this is what family holidays are for: arriving knackered, making a mess, and feeling utterly content.

By bedtime, with the cottage aglow from fairy lights strung along the eaves, I knew we'd nailed it. First impressions don't get much better than this slice of North Devon magic. Can't wait for day two's explorations, but for now, this little fox's den feels like home.