Milestone Madness: How We Celebrated a Big Birthday (or Was It an Anniversary?) in Skipton Without Falling in the Canal

16th May 2025

There comes a time in every adult’s life when you have to face the facts: the candles no longer fit on the cake, and the balloons are more of a choking hazard than a decoration. Whether you’re turning 40, 50, 60 or hitting a significant anniversary that includes the phrase “long-suffering spouse,” it’s time to treat yourself — ideally somewhere you won’t be expected to wash up.

Enter Skipton. The gateway to the Dales, the land of rolling hills, ancient pubs, market stalls selling things you didn’t know you needed, and crucially — Thisledo Holiday Cottage, which sounded like a quaint pun and turned out to be a stroke of genius.

Friday: The Arrival

We arrived on a Friday with high expectations, low luggage (we forgot the suitcase with the nice clothes), and a bottle of prosecco that had been rolling around in the car boot since Christmas. Thisledo greeted us like a warm hug from an old friend — if your old friend has a charming interior, comfy sofa, and doesn’t judge you for immediately putting on pyjamas at 4:30pm.

We popped the prosecco, toasted “to us!” and promptly fell asleep halfway through an episode of Midsomer Murders. Living the dream.

Saturday: Celebrating Like Royalty (But with Fewer Corgis)

Saturday was the day. The Big Celebration. We began with a full English breakfast that could’ve easily fed a rugby team. Then we wandered into town where the market was in full swing — you’ve not truly celebrated a milestone until you’ve bought an artisan chutney and a pair of socks with sheep on them.

We took a canal boat tour (because nothing says “romance” like a diesel-powered drift past ducks), and even waved regally at passersby like we were in Bridgerton, minus the corsets.

For lunch, we dined at one of Skipton’s many historic pubs. The staff were lovely, the portions were generous, and we only mildly embarrassed ourselves trying to discreetly rearrange our trousers after the sticky toffee pudding.

Then came the surprise: a “pamper treatment” at a local spa. My partner was expecting a gentle back rub and possibly a herbal tea. What they got was a very determined woman named Carol who kneaded their shoulders like a pizza base and told them they had “very tight energy.” We’re still not sure what that meant, but the birthday boy/girl hasn’t moved their neck since.

Saturday Night: The Big Toast

Back at Thisledo, we lit some candles (not 60 of them — we don’t want to set of the fire alarm), opened another bottle, and made a toast to love, laughter, and not having to share a bathroom with the kids for a whole weekend.

There was cake. There was a rather suspect rendition of Happy Birthday or Congratulations (depending on the occasion), and there may have been dancing in slippers to 1980s power ballads.

And honestly? It was perfect.

Sunday: Farewell, Skipton. Hello, Digestive Guilt.

Sunday morning arrived like a hungover pigeon: a bit wobbly, slightly confused, and craving toast. We packed our things (remembered the toothbrushes this time), and said a fond farewell to Thisledo Holiday Cottage. The kind of farewell where you look around, sigh wistfully, and say, “Can we just live here?”

We left with a car full of market goodies, slightly tighter waistbands, and the smug glow of people who celebrated something special — and didn’t fall into the canal even once.

Would we come back? Absolutely. Same time next year. Anniversary or birthday — we’ll find something to celebrate.