When I told friends last summer we were going to the Scilly Isles, most people’s knowledge was as limited as mine: they existed somewhere off the coast of Land’s End, had lots of daffodils and something to do with Prince Charles. Only two had actually been. Both were decidedly lukewarm at the prospect of an article trumpeting their bit of ‘undiscovered’ England.

I did some preliminary looking up on the tourist information website. There are over 100 islands in the archepelago, five of them inhabited; they lie about 25 miles north west off the tip of Cornwall; are owned by the Duchy of Cornwall and do grow lots of daffodils. The main island is St Mary’s, complete with airport and heliport. From here, you can get by boat to the ‘off islands’ of St Agnes, St Martin’s, Bryher and Tresco. You can also fly direct to Tresco by helicopter – Tresco is the odd one out in that it is leased from the Duchy by the Dorrien-Smith family and therefore privately owned. We opted to fly from Newquay (although we could have gone from nearer to London – Southampton or Bristol) and to stay in St Martin’s – supposedly the prettiest island.

The surfing market has done wonders for Newquay International Airport – its cappucinos are second to none. The sixteen-seater twin propeller plane was more what I had been expecting. My eldest daughter prevented me from indulging in nervous flyer syndrome by being violently sick for most of the 30 minute journey and my husband and son were in heaven, practically sitting on the pilot.

We were met at St Mary’s by the local bus driver who chatted to most of our fellow passengers as long lost friends as he dropped them off at various b&bs en route to the quayside. I happily let him organise my entire family out of the bus onto the quay, register our presence with the ferryman and depart with a promise to pick us up again at the end of our trip. Slightly bemused, we sat on our bags and took in our surroundings. The bustling harbour stretched around us with a mass of brightly penanted fishing boats and dinghies.

The ferry for Penzance was just leaving. We had an hour to kill before our boat to St Martin’s and, leaving our luggage on the quay, wandered back up through the village to the beach the other side. White-washed slate cottages line the streets. It is picture postcard pretty but not twee. They have cars on St Mary’s but they are comfortably outnumbered by bikes which adds to the 1950s’ timewarp feel of the place. Plus, having left ‘England’ in the pouring rain, it was now miraculously sunny and warm. My sea-loving husband had a grin like an enthusiastic eight year old. All we needed were some lashings of ginger beer to go with our home-made Cornish pasties.

We boarded our packed ferry and marvelled at the stunningly clear water as we chugged out of St Mary’s, past the long golden empty beaches of Tresco towards St Martin’s. As we scrambled out onto the small landing jetty, the manager of our hotel (the only one on the island) came down to greet us. The hotel sits directly above the beach and our interconnecting rooms were on the ground floor with doors out onto a terrace, lawn and the beach below. Comfortable without being luxurious or chic, they were perfect. Keen to explore, we borrowed towels, buckets and spades from the hotel and set off with a map. The island is only 21/2 miles long but not wanting to be over-ambitious we opted to climb over the hills above the hotel and down to ‘Little Bay’. As we walked up the car-free sandy lane that winds from Lower Town (for ‘town’ read four houses) up to Middle Town (six houses) towards High Town (a veritable metropolis with a tea room, post office and primary school) it seemed close to seaside holiday perfection.

We passed a whitewashed general stores and a sign to the Seven Stones Inn before turning off the road and climbing over the downs. As we got higher the view below us opened up. A patchwork of sparkling blue sea dotted with little islands, some no more than a rock, but most surrounded by crescents of white sand – the odd sail or fishing boat moving between them. We dropped down the other side through sand dunes to a deserted beach. The children collected shells and played cricket. I lay back in wonder – August 2004 and I had stumbled on the world of the Famous Five or Swallows and Amazons. I almost expected to see a puffin on one of the rocks – and had we been there in the spring we probably would have. The only thing that brought me back to reality was the temperature of the sea – if you like it bracing, it is for you.

We got back to the hotel in time for high tea for the children, complete with home-made ice cream and then packed them into bed and returned for grown up dinner, which was delicious.

The following day we chartered a fishing boat and with a picnic provided by the hotel, including some fine crab sandwiches, took a tour of the islands. A colony of seals and their pups, a good catch of mackerel and some – very short – dips off the boat. Our boatman was Scilly fisherman born and bred but, as with most of his kind, tourism has taken the place of fishing. What is surprising is that this doesn’t feel contrived – he still uses his father’s fishing boat and has a story to tell for every rock and every cove.

The history of the islands has been defined by the sea and it marks out any holiday here. We took a boat with an outboard one day and explored ourselves. Otherwise days were lazy and slow-paced: rock pools, sandy beaches, shells, dunes, butterflies and rare flowers. The Seven Stones Inn was much visited. The hotel staff were charming, nothing was too much trouble - picnics, boats, bikes etc were arranged instantly and they cater for kids without children dominating the place.

My husband had withdrawal symptoms when we left and went on for slightly too long about the better quality of life we could give our children and ourselves if we had a life change and moved to the Scillies. But for my shallow and materialistic self, I think we would be there now.

The Turner family stayed at the St Martin’s on the Isle Hotel a member of the Pride of Britain Hotels Collection tel 0870 609 3012.