I finally made it to Axbridge Lodge Premier after a bit of a faff on the drive down from Bristol. We'd set off bright and early for our three-day family jaunt in Somerset, me, the wife, and our two lads, aged eight and ten. The sat-nav was doing its usual trick of promising a swift 45-minute scoot through the Mendips, but no – some cheeky cow had wandered onto the A38 near Cheddar, causing a right old tailback. Twenty minutes of honking horns and the kids chanting "Are we there yet?" every 30 seconds later, we were laughing about it. Nothing says family holiday like a bovine roadblock, eh?

Pulling up to the lodge just after lunch, I was gobsmacked. Tucked away in that quiet spot near Axbridge, it's proper Somerset charm – a smart wooden lodge with a wraparound deck peering out over lush green fields that roll right into the hills. The area's dead central for all things Mendip, with the buzz of the village just a short stroll away. We tumbled out of the car, bags flying everywhere, and the first thing that hit me was the air – that fresh, earthy whiff of damp grass and wildflowers, like the county's giving you a big welcoming hug. No traffic fumes here, just the distant bleat of sheep and birds doing their thing overhead.

Unlocking the door (keys hidden under a flowerpot, classic cottage style), we stepped into this cosy haven. It's one of those Premier Snaptrip spots, so everything's spot-on: open-plan living with a massive telly for footie nights, a kitchen kitted out with all the mod cons – think Nespresso machine for my morning caffeine hit, and a fridge already stocked with milk and local butter. The lads beelined for the bedrooms, claiming bunks like it was a pirate ship takeover. Ours had this huge window framing the garden, where rabbits were already hopping about like they owned the place. "Dad, can we chase 'em?" they begged. I had visions of a great escape turning into a neighbourly row, so I suggested crisps and a mooch around instead.

First impressions? Blissful chaos, the best kind. We dumped the bags and headed straight out for a potter down to Axbridge High Street – it's only spitting distance, five minutes tops. Grabbed pasties from the bakery (cornish, naturally, with proper chunky veg) and scoffed them on a bench by the River Axe, watching narrowboats chug past. The sun was doing its British best, peeking through scudding clouds, and I couldn't help but chuckle at how we'd gone from motorway meltdown to this in under an hour. The boys splashed about in the shallows, getting their trainers soaked, while we parents sipped takeaway coffees and pretended not to notice the mud.

Back at the lodge by tea time, we fired up the barbecue on the deck – nothing fancy, just sausages from the local butcher and a few spuds in foil. The outdoor space is a dream: private hot tub bubbling away (we saved that for later), picnic bench, and those views that make you forget the world's gone potty. As the sun dipped behind the hills, painting everything gold, we played a daft game of rounders in the garden. Balls sailing into the hedges, much shrieking and "Oi, that's my shot!" – pure lodge life mayhem. One rogue hit nearly clocked a pheasant, sending it flapping off in a huff. The wife caught me grinning like an idiot, and I admitted it: amid the daily grind back home, these simple daft moments are what recharge the batteries. Who needs posh resorts when you've got this?

That first afternoon set the tone – no grand plans, just us lot unwinding in Somerset's gentle embrace. Axbridge Lodge Premier nailed it from the off: comfy, handy for a wander, and just chaotic enough to feel like home. Can't wait to spill on day two, but blimey, what a cracking start.