Sitting in a deck chair looking out at twisted old oak trees, parched fields and my two children, Rosie, 13, and Poppy, 10, playing Frisbee, I’m feeling as relaxed as I might do on a sun lounger in Greece. The sky is blue, my Prosecco is cold and the only thing I have to worry about is firing up the barbecue for dinner.

I love a flashy hotel as much as the next person, but sometimes, stepping back into more simplistic times is so much better for the soul.

We’re at Feather Down in Sussex, staying in a canvas hideaway with no electricity or wi-fi. We have panic-packed as many portable chargers as we own, while also suggesting we try a bit of a digital detox. There’s no TV, no screens and the only noise I can hear is my daughters’ chatter and the squawking of the birds.

No electricity seems surprisingly easy to deal with. The wood-burning stove heats water, food and the tent, an outdoor BBQ makes cooking easy, candles and gas lanterns (although I’ve already broken one by winding the wick too far) give us light, and there’s instant hot water in the shower.

My ‘Kevin The Teenager’ is very hesitant about the lack of mod-cons, but within five minutes of being here, is running around like her happiest self. And I feel almost instantly relaxed. Who needs technology, eh?

We are blessed with great weather as we head out of the back of the field, straight into the woods, where you can walk into Battle. We spot a writhing slow worm basking in the sunshine and after a gentle wander, head back to sit beneath the trees, supping beer, making mini acorn posies and waiting for the sun to go down.

Come dinnertime, we grill peri peri chicken, halloumi, peppers, asparagus and courgettes outside, and eat under candlelight. Afterwards, the four of us gather at the sink, washing up, drying up and putting away – something I’m a little bit ashamed to say we’ve never done as a family before, and it feels oddly wonderful.

One of the big pulls of this particular Feather Down location (there are 75 farms across Europe and the UK) is that it’s also a vineyard, and one evening, we meet co-owner Neil to find out about his great love, and try some wine.

If you haven’t noticed, English wine is having a moment. The only good thing to come out of climate change, our weather is now similar to how Champagne used to be, Neil tells us. He fizzes with enthusiasm as he regales tales of his super expensive hobby, informing us that there are now around 850 vineyards in the UK – mainly in Kent, Sussex and Hampshire, and that wine is now the fastest-growing part of agriculture in the UK.

“We are the most marginal country in the world trying to make fine wines,” he says, “but we do very well in blind tastings. The [latest] Decanter awards were great.”

We spend an hour or so learning about how wine is made, and the importance of spending a bit more on a handcrafted bottle (a £5-7 vino is likely to be machine made with lots of sulphur, which will give you a headache the next day, he says). Neil also tells me to stop drinking my beloved Prosecco, because most of them have been machine harvested in huge pressure vessels for speed, then pumped with twice as much sugar as other sparkling wines “to cover up a multitude of sins”. I solemnly promise to fill my shopping trolley with crémant, South African sparkling, or even Cava from now on.

A total of six little rabbits prick up their ears to listen to Neil educate us, turning to reveal their fluffy white tails as they hop away.

After gobbling our breakfast basket (£25 for four people) of freshly-laid eggs, warm baguettes, homemade plum jam, local sausages and bacon, and a mini urn of milk, we head to nearby Source Park in Hastings (£12 induction, including kit hire), the world’s largest underground skatepark. We’re kitted out with bikes, boards and helmets, and nervously wander into the Plaza where steward-cum-coach Alfie attempts to teach us what to do.

As a skater girl at heart, I have always wanted to be able to board. I nail the stance, bending my knees to keep my centre of gravity in the right place, but pushing off and getting my feet in the right spot without falling off is seemingly impossible. Over on the ramps, however, my husband James is reliving his youth as he BMXes up and down, attempting a few jumps before clattering spectacularly to the floor. Twice.

The girls have a good go, riding until Poppy falls off, then exchange their bikes for scooters, taking tips from a 12-year-old local, who advises them on how to do tricks.

Other kids (and the odd adult) pile in, doing ollies, 180s and riding rails to their heart’s content. But we’re battered, bruised (James is actually bleeding) and blowing out of our backsides within half an hour.

We stop off at Brewing Brothers next door, quenching our thirst with pints of Belushi IPA (£5.50) and Pig & Porter Twisted Smile wheat beer (£6.40), where they also sell a plethora of pasta with brilliant names – a bowl of Britney Shears or Mark Zucchiniberg, anyone?

Hastings Adventure Golf is worth swinging by, too. Right by the beach, there are three different courses, plus sweet treats if you need a sugar rush.

We hire paddleboards and kayaks at Bodiam Boating Station (from £12 per hour) and take them out on the river. The green reeds, dried grasses and nettles frame the riverbed, fields glow in the afternoon sunlight and our pace continues to slow, as the water gently carries us downstream. The river ripples like a delicious batter being mixed up, as the oars plunge into its depths.

On a Rye Harbour River Seal Safari (£10pp), we spot a colony of 17 common, grey and harbour seals, lounging out on the banks, trying to soak up the tiniest ray of sunlight that’s peeking through the grey skies.

Sea gulls waddle up and down while the odd heron and cormorant keep an eagle eye over proceedings. I spot black and white oystercatchers and lots of curlews dipping their long beaks into the river Rother.

We meander around Rye Harbour’s plump green Nature Reserve – one of Britain’s largest coastal wetland reserves. More than 280 species of bird, 500 plants and 2,000 insects have been recorded here, and if you’re really lucky, you might spot a rare Nathusius’ Pipistrelle bat.

Back in our canvas hideaway, we shelter when the weather turns, listening to raindrops crash down on the thick fabric, the thirsty grass outside finally thankful for a drink.

When the thunder comes, we light the wood stove, put on fluffy socks and make warming hot chocolate – the epitome of hygge. Going back to basics might not be first on the family holiday hit list, but as the cost of living continues to pinch, sometimes it’s exactly what you need.

How to plan your trip

Prices at Feather Down farms across the UK and Europe start at £410 for a three-night weekend, or four-night midweek stay in a tented hideaway, which sleeps a maximum of six (five adults) with en suite toilet facilities and shower. To book, visit featherdown.co.uk or call 01420 80804.