Browsing Tag

child-friendly holiday


Secrets from a Travel Editor

I used to be a travel writer. In fact, I used to be the travel editor for Conde Nast Brides magazine, which meant that it was my job to test out the best honeymoon suites in the best hotels in the best destinations on the planet. And to answer your question, the question that everyone asked when I told them what I did, yes, it was the best job in the world. Not only did you get to stay in hotels that you could never in your wildest dreams afford to stay in, you got to stay in hotels that no-one (with the exception of Hollywood stars, hedge funders and childless city types) could afford to stay in. But before you swear wildly at me and log off, never to return again, there were downsides. It didn’t pay very much. Enough to get by, but not much more. It spoiled me for life (and yes, I do hear the world’s tiniest violin playing). I didn’t get to stay that long in the hotel. Usually two nights. Sometimes three. Hardly ever more. And, I don’t do it anymore. Well, only on occasion. You see, it’s not a job that’s particularly compatible with…


Anyone for a walk on the beach?

  Do you hanker after the bucolic, cream tea and sandy beach English holidays of your (or, more likely, your grandmother’s) youth? But, err, you don’t really fancy eschewing all those little luxuries without which a holiday feels, somehow, so much less. And you’d prefer not to schlep to Cornwall this time, thank you very much. The very first holiday we took after we had C was a gentle toe-in-the-water trip to Dorset (home to many of my own childhood holidays). Now, hands up, I am spoilt on the hotel front (not, I should add, as spoilt as Alex, who has spent years nipping around the globe reviewing a-may-zing hotels for fancy-pants publications. The woman was the Travel Editor for Brides, there is not a honeymoon suite worth it’s rose petals she hasn’t checked out).  So, I was not willing to accept that having a child meant style-free cottages or cheese-tastic family-friendly resorts (obviously, there are exceptions). Thank the gods of travel then, for Baby Friendly Boltholes. Simple concept, well done. It was here that I found The Cowshed – a mini barn conversion in a I-wish-we-lived-here village (there’s a pub and an aesthetically pleasing playground), owned by a lovely I-reckon-we’d-be-friends-with-them…