From a family break (without a TV) to hanging with the Glasgow art crowd, there's a UK destination to suit all tastes. Plus win the holiday of a lifetimeFamily fun in SussexIt takes less than five minutes for the four children (all under five and over-curious) to make a beeline for the staircase. Stairs, in normal circumstances, are not something to lose sleep over. But this isn't any staircase. It's a Landmark Trust staircase. Big, bold and with a wooden latticework banister, it is here the children are soon scrambling up and perilously teetering over before an adult steps in to ruin the fun. I'm not sure what she was worried about more ? the children or the antique banister ? but mercifully both came away unharmed.The Landmark Trust, with its imagination-busting collection of rentable towers and castles, seems an obvious choice for a family holiday. Indeed, when I tell a friend I'm visiting my first Landmark pad, she effuses about childhood holidays in Maesyronen, a converted chapel in Wales, and the Martello tower on the beach at Aldeburgh, where they would climb out of the windows and jump on to the sand. They sound idyllic, so it is surprising to learn that the Landmark Trust doesn't actually attract families in great numbers. Apparently many are put off by concerns about damaging the building and the fact that no Landmark Trust property has a TV.Not to be deterred, we set off ? two couples, each with two children ? for a weekend at Wilmington Priory in East Sussex, having been warned that our first choice was considered "hardy" (meaning it would be colder than other buildings). Advice well heeded, it turned out, as this was a December weekend of snow and freezing temperatures. Much hardier than Wilmington I'm not sure I could have stomached.While the children were busy endangering their lives, the four adults cosied up in front of the fire to marvel (and tut) over a scrapbook detailing how the Priory has been added to and altered in various makeovers since its inception as a cell of the Benedictine Abbey at Grestain in Normandy.The big attraction of this property, though, is its view of and proximity to stunning Sussex landscape, with the chalk hill figure of the the Long Man visible from the window. We steel ourselves for a wet and windy walk to the summit, only to find the Long Man fenced off for preservation. Still, we marvel from below, until the minors lose patience and force us back to explore the Priory (the unconverted chamber complete with a table tennis table would have been a hit in summer but, with its open, cathedral-like roof, was a bit nippy for midwinter).The next day we have breakfast by the kitchen fire, followed by a rainy but memorable walk to the local pub. They are, I hope, memories the children will take with them into adulthood. And the lack of TV? Didn't bother us at all. But ? whisper it ? we did bring along a few DVDs and a laptop. Just in case. Merope MillsFor more information, visit landmarktrust.org.uk.Scottish romanceWhen planning our wedding-on-a-budget last year, a flashy car was one of the first expenses we crossed off the list. What was the point in paying for a Bentley or a Rolls for a half-hour round trip? Yet as we drove back from the register office in our reliable yellow Skoda, we couldn't help wondering whether it had been an economy too far.Which is ? in a roundabout way ? why we found ourselves three months later cruising along the empty roads of Scotland's border country in a 1969 E-type Jaguar. As he later admitted, my new husband was not immune to the lure of an old-fashioned, head-turning classic car. And by hiring one for a weekend, we would have the time really to enjoy the experience.Trigony House, a cosy country hotel near Dumfries, offers vintage car hire as part of its weekend package ? along with fishing, falconry and horse riding, for the more physically adventurous. The cars, which range from a 1937 Austin to an MG J2, are supplied by local owner Martin Edgar, a man well-versed in the local beauty spots and their attendant pubs. He advised a drive down the Solway coast, an unspoiled stretch of coastline that, while not quite the "Scottish Riviera" described in the hotel guidebook, has an understated charm. There are no doubt more spectacular parts of Scotland, but what the area really had going for it, for our purposes, were long, loch-lined, empty roads.Driving a vintage car turned out to be more challenging, and exhilarating, than we expected. There was a certain amount of stalling, and the realisation that, just inches from the road, without seatbelts or suspension, what felt like a terrifying 60mph was in fact a more sedate 40mph. All things considered, it was lucky there wasn't another soul on the road.A stop-off for a pub lunch in Castle Douglas allowed for some head-turning opportunities, though, and we got plenty of waves from passersby (Martin later told us that they probably thought it was him in the car ? he's quite the local celebrity, apparently). Never mind. Driving through such rugged, untouched scenery in this Bond-esque machine, we could have been celebrities on an illicit getaway in the 1960s. In fact, when we stopped at the picturesque National Trust-owned village of Rockcliffe for a cliff-side walk, we couldn't wait to get back in the car.Back at the hotel, and revived by what is officially Scotland's Best Breakfast ? the food at Trigony House is delicious, organic and homemade, down to the bread rolls ? we packed our yellow Skoda to go home. It may have been a smoother, easier drive, but on this journey, I'm sad to say, we didn't get a single wave. Charlotte NorthedgeTrigony House hotel prices start from �165 per room per night on a dinner, bed and breakfast basis. Full-day hire of a Jaguar E-type starts from �285.Glasgow city breakI'm after a city break, but the snow has taken out the Eurostar and all planes are grounded. "Come to Glasgow," says my very cool little sister, who is there studying art. The Caledonian Sleeper isn't quite what I'd imagined (the Orient Express), but a lack of sleep on the journey only accentuates the splendour of the beautiful bedroom at my B&B, 15Glasgow.Our first stop is lunch at Crabshakk, a trendy seafood restaurant in the West End. We hunker down with hot clam chowder, then, once the snow eases, stroll east to the art school. Charles Rennie Mackintosh's building is a wonder; gnarly and intricate. My sister takes me straight up to the "hen run", a glass walkway at the top of the building. With dark clouds rolling over the city, it is a beautiful spot.That night there's an art show at the Glue Factory, an abandoned building sporadically taken over by art students and the place to be seen. People drift through the space, inspecting the art and each other, until we decide to abandon our cool night out for an exceptionally delicious late-night curry in Mother India.We begin day two with a walk through Kelvingrove Park to Tchai-Ovna cafe, for a cosy vegan lunch, then it's across town to Trongate 103 arts centre to see the extraordinary Sharmanka kinetic theatre, a collection of moving sculptures made of scrap. Next door, we find the equally eccentric Britannia music hall, which in the 1900s had a zoo in its basement and a carnival in the attic.There are plenty of trendy bars around Trongate, but we bypass Mono and 13th Note in favour of Laurie's, where hordes of Glaswegian pensioners are dancing to a jazz band. My sister is immediately picked up by Willy, in his 70s, who takes her for a turn. Glasgow, Willy tells us, has a vibrant jazz scene.The heart of Glasgow's East End is the Barras market, by day a sprawling mass of antiques, junk and Hannah Montana towels, by night a rowdy run of traders' pubs. We're here on our last night for an event in honour of John Peel, organised by art collective Glasgow Podcart. It's a strange evening. At first everyone huddles around the heaters, waiting for something to happen, then about 20 musicians slowly assemble. This is Blochestra, and when they open with a haunting rendition of Beirut's Postcards From Italy, everybody freezes ? for once, not because it's snowing. Becky BarnicoatVisit seeglasgow.com for more information.Relax in SurreyQuality time with my mum happens less and less as I get older. Weekends back home up north fly by, and the longest we spend, just the two of us, is the time it takes her to beat me at Scrabble. So off we headed to the majestic Grayshott Spa, set in 700 acres of National Trust land in Surrey, for some proper mother and daughter time.I find it hard to sit still, so I tried yoga, a legs, bums and tums class, and made full use of the pool and steam room. Grayshott isn't huge, so I'd often bump into Mum, fresh from the relaxation room, looking slightly glazed. And we came together for the treatments: an exfoliating citrus detox body wrap and a hydrotherapy marine mineral bath that involved jet streams soothing every muscle. If everyone had one of these, the world would be a better place.Evenings started with canap�s and (non-alcoholic) cocktails in the bar, followed by a three-course dinner ? by no means the rabbit food you might expect. It's not a dry spa, either, so we did enjoy a glass of wine (or three); Mum still managed to beat me at Scrabble, though. We also gossiped and giggled like teenagers.Spending such quality time with a parent is not something to take for granted. Now it's time to start planning the father and daughter spa break. Anna ChestersA two-night break at Grayshott Spa starts from �455.Retreat to Northern Ireland"Gorgeous, isn't it?" says the woman opposite us in the hot tub, pressing a button that gets the bubbles blasting again. It's hard to argue. Although I can see my breath in the icy air, the water is hot and a full moon is shining on the river Maine as it rushes through the grounds of the Galgorm hotel.We've left the children behind for a weekend in Northern Ireland and ? after nearly missing train and plane, and getting tangled up in the Ballymena roundabout system ? we've finally landed at our luxury bolthole in the Antrim countryside. Being without our boys is strange enough ? I've spent the day feeling so helium light that I keep checking to see what I've forgotten (suitcase? Handbag?) ? but sharing a whirlpool bath with a pair of semi-naked locals has pushed things into the surreal.A leisurely lunch, a couple of hours' lazy reading, a massage, a stroll along the river during which no one sits on the ground and howls? we check off many gloriously child-free activities before we even arrive at the spa and now, after sauna, steam room and something called an "aroma grotto", we're wallowing without a care in the world.One long lie-in and a huge Irish breakfast later, we're on the road back to Belfast, the previous day's bickering replaced by a new calm that outlasts multiple circuits of the one-way system. We check into the Merchant ? ornate Victorian bank on the outside, low-lit art deco boutique hotel inside ? and head off to meet local guide Billy Scott. We spend the afternoon hopping in and out of his black cab, listening to hair-raising stories of the Titanic shipyard, bank heists and an IRA leader gunned to death in hospital by UVF men in white coats. Places made notorious by the news bulletins of my childhood turn out to be tidy little clumps of terrace houses, even if some are still decorated with hooded gunmen touting AK-47s.In freezing winter, and in the middle of an economic catastrophe, Belfast can look bleak, but as soon as we're inside one of the city's many cosy pubs, it seems the best place in the world to be on a cold day. And that's how we spend our last night, listening to a rowdy folk band and drinking Guinness in a packed little pub called Fibber Magees, never once worrying about what time we have to rush home to the babysitter. Liese SpencerFor information, go to discovernorthernireland.com, galgorm.com and themerchanthotel.com.SussexScotlandUnited KingdomEuropeGlasgowNorthern IrelandMerope MillsCharlotte NorthedgeBecky Barnicoatguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2011 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
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