I finally made it to Scarborough after a bit of a faff on the journey down from Leeds. We'd piled the kids, bags, and enough snacks to feed a small army into the car, aiming for a proper family getaway at 28 Finch, this cosy little terraced cottage right in the heart of the old town. But typical us – about 20 minutes from the A64 turn-off, I realised I'd left the sat-nav charging cable at home. No worries, I thought, the phone'll do. Cue 15 minutes of circling a one-way system while the littlest one hollered for crisps and my other half shot me that look. Classic dad fail, but we laughed it off as we finally spotted the narrow street sign for Finch Street, just a stone's throw from the beach.

Pulling up outside number 28 felt like stepping into a proper seaside postcard. It's one of those classic Scarborough terraces, all pebble-dashed charm with a bright blue door that practically begged for a family photo. We tumbled out, stretching our legs, and the sea air hit us straight away – that bracing, salty tang mixed with the faint whiff of chips from the prom. The owner had left the key in a handy lockbox, and within seconds we were in, dumping bags in the hallway and letting out a collective "ooh" at the place.

First impressions? Bloody brilliant. The living room's a snug haven with a wood-burning stove (we didn't light it yet, mind, with summer peeking through), squashy sofas in seaside stripes, and a telly big enough for CBeebies marathons. The kids made a beeline for the toys they'd spotted – a box of beach buckets and a stack of board games that screamed "proper family holiday". I plonked myself down with a cuppa from the well-stocked kitchen (proper Yorkshire tea bags, none of your weak southern stuff), peering out the sash window at the hustle of Foreshore Road below. You can hear the donkeys clip-clopping on the beach, the seagulls squawking like they're auditioning for a Carry On film – pure Scarborough symphony.

Wandering upstairs, we found three bedrooms that ticked every box for lodge life chaos. Ours was the master at the front, with a comfy double bed and views straight over the rooftops to the North Bay in the distance. The kids' room had bunks that had them whooping like they'd won the lottery – cue immediate bunk-bed wrestling practice, which nearly ended in tears but dissolved into giggles. The third room's a flexible twin, perfect if we'd brought Nan along. The bathroom's compact but spotless, with a powerful shower that rinsed off the road grime in no time. I caught myself in the mirror, knackered but grinning – when did I last feel this properly switched off? Work emails forgotten already; it's these simple setups that make you realise how much you need a breather from the daily grind.

We didn't waste time settling in properly – scarfed down fish and chips from a chippy just round the corner on Sandside (crispiest batter ever, and vinegar sharp enough to wake the dead), then ambled down to South Sands. It's only a five-minute stroll, past the harbour with fishing boats bobbing and the funicular railway chugging up to the castle headland. The beach was alive with families building sandcastles, paddling in the North Sea (brrr, even in July!), and the tide was out far enough for a mooch along the rocks. The boys found a crab, I got sand in my trainers – little moments of mayhem that make it all worthwhile.

Back at the cottage by dusk, we cracked open a bottle of wine on the small patio out back (fenced for kid safety, potted herbs adding a homey touch), watching the streetlights flicker on. The place just wraps around you like a warm scarf – no frills, but every detail screams relaxed family break. That first evening, as the kids conked out early and I sat flicking through a dog-eared guide to local walks, I had one of those quiet thinks: life's too short not to chase these unhurried vibes more often. 28 Finch? Spot on for recharging the batteries amid Scarborough's gentle buzz. Can't wait for day two.