The realisation that this was a holiday unlike any we'd ever had dawned early. First came a bell, its incessant ring shattering our sleep. Then a bellow: "Animal feeding time! Hurry up, Joe!"
"What the . . .?" groaned my husband, Paul, as I peeked between heavy toile curtains. There, in teeming rain stood a bear of a man, wielding a bowl of vegetable peelings and surrounded by children. "Farmer" Stuart was calling the pack to heel.
"Oh, Mum!" our son, Joe, yelled from his bedroom. "You promised to wake me!" Wellies squelched across a flagstone floor, a door slammed . . . and then, silence.
Helicopter parent that I am, I flew after him, only to be headed off at the honesty bar by Stuart's wife, Tracey. "Leave him, he'll be fine," she assured me. "Sit down, relax, have a croissant. I'll get you a coffee." And blow me if I didn't do exactly as I was told: it was as if I'd been Paul McKenna'd.
From there on our wake-up call was that slamming door. Did we care that Joe was running wild somewhere on the 35-acre farm? Not likely – for if ever there was a corner of a foreign field designed to quell neurosis and give city sprogs like mine the freedom they crave, it's here, on a Country Kids holiday in Hérault in the south of France. Some mornings we joined in feeding the animals (Obama, the baby lama, was pretty irresistible) and sometimes we grabbed breakfast and went back to bed.
Like omnipresent fairy godparents, Country Kids owners Tracey and Stuart Scher have every base covered (we wasted an hour searching for something they'd missed out, and had to settle for a shaving mirror). The six self-catering apartments are brilliantly equipped for family life. Ours, part of a 300-year-old former Roquefort dairy, had classic features, including the original hay door and stone walls deep enough to hug. There were also thoughtful extra touches, such as a huge basket of local delicacies that meant we needn't shop for days, and goodie bags of L'Occitane smellies.
Our first full day served up the first of two communal feasts. All the older kids, including the Scher's four, sat together which gave us an opportunity to get to know our fellow guests (families from Britain, Germany and Ireland) and hosts better. Together we demolished platters of charcuterie, pâté, salads and an onion tart, as Tracey told how discovering she was expecting twins led the couple to ditch London and lucrative careers for their "great French adventure". Frankly, I'd have moved in with my mum, but five years on, the unflappable Schers seem to be "living the dream".
"Life's much healthier out here," reckoned Stuart. "Our kids are happy, sociable, bilingual – and they've real freedom. OK, they've got a Nintendo, but they're always outside."
Country Kids' family package includes everything a picky brood could want: unlimited crèche use for children aged three months to six years, outdoor larks aplenty – from trampolines to tractor rides, a safely-fenced pool and toddler pool, tennis courts, bikes to borrow, and even a river and waterfall to splash in. If you've energy left, there are daily, supervised, on-site activities for older kids and parents, too. We adults discovered the bottom of several glasses during wine tasting with award-winning local vintner, Gavin Crisfield of La Sauvageonne.
That said, there was no pressure to do anything – and plenty of space not to do it in. I whiled away many hours in a hammock, appreciating the isolated beauty of the farm's protected "site classé" setting, high up in the hills above the Hérault Valley.
A holiday here is undeniably expensive (and 2010's prices, coupled with exchange rate fluctuations, make our week this year, at €2,990, appear cheap), but with so much on tap, you need never leave. Yet our diverse, dramatic surroundings deserved exploration, so we set out along switchback roads, past deep gorges, towering limestone plateaux (it's at the southern tip of the Massif Central) and the Lac du Salagou. Seven kilometres long, it's flanked by basalt columns (a reminder of the area's volcanic past), furrowed evergreen hills and acres of ruffes rouge: vast mounds of iron-oxide rich rock and soil that turn deep aubergine in the rain. It's a place of wild, stark beauty – so it's a bit of shock to discover that it's a man-made reservoir created in the 60s.
This part of the Hérault abounds with vineyards, olive groves and clematis-dripping villages the colour of honey, including St-Guilhem-le-Desért, deemed by many to be France's prettiest. But pretty doesn't mean much when you're nine, and it was too cold for the Med (we were there in April), 30 minutes away, so we headed to La Couvertoirade, a fortified Templar village dating back to the 12th century. Crusaders have given way to artisans and shopkeepers, but externally little, if anything, has changed and the day's misty gloom hung heavy with history. Virtually deserted, the narrow alleyways and sentries' walkways soon rang out with cries of "I'm the Sheriff of Nottingham" (Robin Hood being Joe's closest reference point).
It's hungry work being medieval, so we ended up at Crêperie Montes, once the village's bergerie. It's as rustic as they come – all thick walls, farming yokes and animal skulls – but the crepes range from traditional jambon et fromage to sophisticated duck, spinach, honey, gruyère and crème fraîche, and just plain indulgent marron purée, Chantilly cream and toasted almonds. With salad, wine and a juice for Joe, it came to about £10 a head.
With the pound taking a battering, it was a relief to find that eating out wasn't expensive. From plats du jour at Le Festillou, a tiny bar overlooking the fountained square and green shutters of Salasc, to tagines at La House, a Moroccan café in Lodève, it was easy to eat well for £15 a head.
At times, capturing Joe to leave the site wasn't easy ("But this is my best holiday ever – I'm having too much fun!") so it helped that two inclusive off-site activities – we chose riding and rock-climbing – could be used as a lure.
Riding proved an eye-opener: our steeds were stunning Mérens, an ancient native breed virtually unknown in the UK – and there was no lead rein for beginner, Joe.
"He's OK, they're very, how you say, tranquille?" Denis, the instructor, promised as Joe did a solo lap of the school. "Joe, you OK? You wanna trot?" Joe, clutching on for grim life, nodded tentatively. "See? He's OK, he trot. OK, now we go." So off we rode, up into the forest above Lodève where wild boar roam, with Joe safely boxed in between me and Denis
Rock-climbing took us even further out of our comfort zone. I'm not sure what we were expecting (a slight incline, maybe?) but it wasn't the sheer, limestone cliff that our wiry tutor, Maxime, presented us with. Safely kitted out, we took turns to reach a tiny ledge, 30m high, with Maxime encouraging us every potentially shoulder-dislocating millimetre of the way. Joe got halfway before yelling: "I've discovered I'm scared of heights." I got two-thirds up and, exhausted, couldn't fathom how to go any further; but slowly, painfully, my fumbling fingers located minuscule crevices and I hauled myself higher. Then finally, sweat dripping, I was there. The view was exhilarating, reaching for miles to the coast and as far as the Pyrenees. Knackered, sucking in air, I buzzed with the sheer beauty of the scenery – and cursed the fact that my camera was far below.
Sherpas – shaving mirrors and Sherpas – that's all Country Kids is missing.
• Country Kids (+33 4 67 97 18 94) offers seven nights' self-catering accommodation for a family of four from €4,090. The price includes unlimited use of crèche (3 months to 6+ years); all outdoor recreational facilities and supervised activities; two off-site adventure activities; two catered meals; and two nights' babysitting.
Ryanair.com flies to Beziers (45 minutes' drive) from Bristol and Luton, to Montpellier (one hour's drive) from Bristol, Leeds and Stansted, and to Nîmes (90 minutes' drive) from Luton and Liverpool. Easyjet.com flies to Montpellier from Gatwick and Luton.
Take the train from London to Montpelier with Eurostar from £109 rtn.
Avis, Europcar and Hertz are based at all three airports. Prices start at around £30 per day based on a seven-day rental. Alternatively, the drive from Calais is 620 miles. For more information on the surrounding area, visit uk.franceguide.com.
