NEVER judge a book by its cover, my mum told me regularly when I was growing up, and for most of my life I’ve heeded her wise words. How I wish I’d remembered them when we arrived at our hotel for our weekend away in Lancaster.

I’d been a student in Lancaster more than 30 years ago and I’d been looking forward to a trip down Memory Lane, but when I saw our hotel, the Holiday Inn at junction 34 of the M6, my heart sank at the hustle and bustle and sheer busy-ness of it all.

I was travelling with the usual suspects – my husband, Ian, our son Jack, Jack’s friend George and our hotel-loving Border terrier Buddy, all four country boys at heart, for whom excitement is a bus through our village back home.

I was about to apologise when I saw looks of excitement on their faces. Ian had spotted the big Sky Sports screen in the bar, while Jack and George, both 13, had seen signs for the swimming pool. Even Buddy was behaving like a sniffer dog on to something.

A little explore soon showed how wrong my first impression had been. While the front of the Holiday Inn looked out on to busy roads, the back overlooked the beautiful Lune Millennium Park Walk. If we turned left, we had a two-mile walk to Lancaster, along the river.

To the right, there was a two-mile walk to Caton. It was just the right balance between lovely safe walks for Buddy, and fun for the boys. It’s also perfect for cyclists looking for easy routes.

When we got upstairs to our family room, there was an elephant in the room – literally.

The staff had made our towels into elephants, and left the boys sticks of Morecambe rock, which we loved for being so down to earth and fun. There was nothing pretentious about this place.

While we were waiting for our room to be prepared, we’d been allowed to sneak Buddy into the human-only bar to wait. You got the impression from the staff that while there were rules, they would turn a blind eye if we broke them now and then.

Our room was huge, with a king-size bed, and two singles, with plenty of storage space and mirrors. Even with Buddy’s cage in, there was plenty of room for all of us, though the boys took up residence at the Spirit Health Club, which also had a steam room, spa bath and a sauna. Breakfast in the open plan Traders Restaurant was full English, delicious and hearty, with the added attraction of a pancake machine, which turned out small, but perfectlyformed, pancakes. Specials include grilled Manx kippers and smoked salmon and scrambled eggs.

During a break in swimming, we ordered room service – a Best of British sharing plate which included cottage pie, croquette potatoes, mini-chicken and ham pies, Cumberland sausages and chips – for £13.65.

Since graduating, I’d never been back to the centre of Lancaster, yet I was very pleasantly surprised. It’s still a vibrant university city, but now bars and restaurants overlook the cobbled streets, and with more of the centre pedestrianised, our wandering had a real holiday feel.

It’s small enough not to get bored, but not so big we ever got lost.

The boys enjoyed seeing the 1093 castle which has a commanding position up on the hill, and hearing of the trials of the Lancashire witches. We walked to town along the river, ate at Bella Italia in Church Street one night and the excellent Sultan of Lancaster, a former church, in Brock Street the next. A taxi back cost us £6.

Having enjoyed the gentle charm of Lancaster, I had high hopes for Morecambe, where I lived for the second year of my studies. But this particular trip down Memory Lane wasn’t as successful, which was a real shame because the backdrop – the Lakeland Hills – was so breathtaking. Despite efforts by the Tern project (art installations along the windy promenade) to brighten the place up, and the largerthan- life Eric Morecambe statue looking out across the promenade, there is still a way to go to take Morecambe up in the world.