by Family holidays as a child were often far ahead, thanks to my father’s job as cabin crew for British Airways. We were lucky enough to stay in a fancy hotel near Sydney Harbour, explore the high-rise mecca of Hong Kong and play on the beach in Barbados. But it was in a small upside-down cottage in Tuckenhay, Devon, that we stayed as a family – my mother, my dad, my brother Nicholas and myself – in the early 1980s, which has long been imprinted in my memory. And, since I lost my beloved father in November 2022, his importance has grown even more.
Dad didn’t see logistics as a challenge. Our last minute trips away were the airport to the plane after he found us empty seats through his team travel allocation. As a result, four tiny holiday homes – two on top of a hill and two below them – next to a derelict paper mill in the deepest, darkest Devonian countryside, had nothing to stop him from taking a holiday. Mum thinks he saw the Tuckenhay Mill advertised in the British Airways staff newspaper, or was told about it by a colleague. Either way, not knowing what was waiting, he took his word and we left our house in Croodun.
Our first visit was in February half term 1983. I was five and a half, and my brother almost eight – but I still remember the excitement of the car going up the steep driveway and pulling up outside the front door small. Nicholas and I found out and ran with him. I’ve never been in a house where the bedrooms were downstairs and the novel, I think, levels of excitement were palpable.
Nicholas and I shared a room. One window looked out over the stone car park and the other out over the mill to the hills. We had to go upstairs for breakfast – which blew my five year old mind – to climb a steep flight of stairs to the lounge and small kitchen. A small hamper was left for guests, with essentials such as milk, bread and marmalade, but mum and dad made sure we had a weekly shop with the comforts of home too.
We spent the holiday exploring pretty nearby villages and the verdant countryside. We’ll go to nearby Totnes, a 10-minute drive, to wander the bustling market, and visit the narrow lanes of Buckfast. At the cottage, we would play Pooh Sticks on Postman Pat’s bridge, dropping twigs into the stream below and running to the other side to see them float by. There was a rope swing and lovely little walks down by the lake. It was idyllic. We returned two years later.
During the last 18 months of Dad’s life, he succumbed to dementia and moved into care close to the family home in Somerset. It was hard to see him, struggling with life once, turning into a shadow of himself, and it was all very hard when he died, knowing that my time with him was over.
I began to feel a growing need to be somewhere that allowed me to catch a glimpse of the “old” Dad – the one who shared his love of travel with us, was always busy doing something, and the one who was so difficult I already remember. . Now with my own family – partner Jonjo, and twin boys, Ted and George – I knew the time was right to return to the “upside down” cottage.
As we wound our way along winding country roads towards Tuckenhay, it felt quite comfortable – and by the time we turned left at the little bridge at the Waterman’s Arms pub, a mile from the mill, I was overcome with it. We went up the driveway, just as I remembered it, and there, with its little blue door was 4 Castle Cottage. Knowing that dad was once in the same place, it was as if I had stepped back 40 years for a moment. I slotted the key into the door, and it was: the place I found so magical, just the same, but for a sweet modern zhuzh.
I discovered that the houses are still owned by the same couple, Peter and Kay Wheeler, as they were many years ago – and since then, they have been lovingly working, restoring the site in total to create 22 properties (sleeping from two of them). to 11 people), updating all the original buildings and adding a large outdoor swimming pool and hot tub, two indoor swimming pools, a tennis court, a football field, a children’s playground, a badminton hall and a gymnasium. This sounds like a lot, but it’s strange that the new additions somehow feel like they’ve been there for a long time. The whole place still feels like home, and from time to time you’ll see Peter, now an eternal octogenarian, roaming the grounds making sure everyone is having a great time.
And we did. The cottage was as homely as ever: with cots, high chairs and a wooden staircase gate handmade by one of the mill staff, and a lovely welcome pack with all the basics, including milk, tea and biscuits. We took the boys to the bridge and threw sticks in the flowing water, had the pool to ourselves for an hour, and even managed some “just the two of us” time rowing in the badminton hall and the a few busied themselves with a play house. in the corner.
It was joyful. We walked alongside the mill to look at the views and find the tree from which the swing rope once hung, and through the ground to the curd to watch the water flowing over the rocks. So much time had passed, but there were moments when there was no time.
I was nervous, however, that we would return and I might not feel father’s presence – or that the harsh memories of the past few years might ruin the joy of the older ones. But I needn’t have worried. they raised each other. I felt warm knowing that I would share this space with my father, and encouraged that I was creating new memories. Now, we plan to start our own tradition, returning year after year with our little gang – and feeling like my dad is there with us anyway.
Kate Leahy was a guest at Tuckenhay Mill (01803 732624), where a week’s stay at 4 Castle Cottage costs from £429 (sleeps four).
