It always seems to me that Ilfracombe is the one that got away, the seaside resort that never quite scrubs up as well as it might. It has great credentials, laid out as it is across a series of hills, a margin of urbanisation between cliff and field. A privately owned beach, the Tunnels, offers black sand and rock pools for children to dabble in and a big friendly cafe selling picnic lunch boxes. Then there is the harbour, easy access to a string of sandy bays and the boat to Lundy island.
Damien Hirst opened his cafe-restaurant, 11 The Quay, in 2004, but six years on, there are only a handful of boutique-y arrivals. Its beautiful Victorian villas are juxtaposed with curvaceous, rundown 1930s facades.
I am easing the car up the ridiculously steep Torrs Park, which winds away from the seafront. If Ilfracombe has a posh bit, an area for London émigrés to spend the profit from a Fulham terrace, this is it. The driveway to The Quarry, a self-catering place sleeping 13, is even steeper, but we emerge at the top of the hill.
As I let myself in through the conservatory door (a tableau of wellies, firewood and geraniums) into a tiled hallway, there are no surprises in terms of layout. The Quarry was built in the 1890s for an admiral and his family and has seven bedrooms. Downstairs the kitchen/diner lies to one side of the hall, the sitting room to the other.
Whatever grandeur the admiral enjoyed has now been replaced with a modern and minimal approach. The higher up I go, the more sparsely furnished the rooms become, as though someone ran out of steam by the time they got to the top floor. Bare essentials means all the more room for two (even three) families to spread out, of course. The bathrooms (two en suite, plus two more) are all different, with an antique marble-topped wash stand here, a claw-foot bath there, plus floors and cupboards from reclaimed parquet and teak.
On the way up ("pick a room, any room") I dump my clobber in the bedroom with the biggest windows. On the way down, I realise I'm already perfectly at home, which says much for a large house with a lone visitor.
Downstairs, adobe-coloured walls form the backdrop for old-school radiators, slouchy leather sofas, and pop art cushions. It's all here: books, toys, even a "house" CD. In the kitchen I namecheck Aga, Miele and Marimekko, plus a sink tap I saw on Grand Designs which cost four figures.
The last of the sun is on the front terrace and I throw open French windows. A meal has been delivered and Mitch, the lovely housekeeper, drops by to give me a telly tutorial. I tune in to SATC reruns – well it seems the logical thing to do in a house best described as Hoxton-by-sea.
• Prepared meals around £12 for two courses, from Hibiscus (07891 587218, hibiscuscatering.co.uk).
This article was updated on 10 May 2012
