I have one hand plunged in the pick ’n’ mix when I lock eyes with a couple snaffling a Bakewell tart. We look momentarily guilty, before returning to our respective hotel rooms with a triumphant giggle. No.42 by GuestHouse in Margate has many fabulous features, but the help-yourself goodies bar outside our room is a highlight. It’s all part of the make-yourself-at-home vibe that reverberates in thoughtful touches throughout the coastal property.

A record player in the room, brollies by the door, toothpaste at reception when you forget your own… even a beach towel to borrow when we were drawn to a morning dip. With local art adorning the walls and enviable interiors, it’s a hotel with heart and style. My friend Camille and I are celebrating her 40th birthday with an overnight stay. We checked into our hotel room, which felt like a posh Parisian apartment with a vintage-style telephone and glass-panelled vestibule for our clothes. Camille slinked downstairs for a massage, while I wallowed in a hot bath and a good book. She returned an hour later, glowing from the full-body massage and bespoke sweet orange and neroli oil the therapist had blended just for her.

We swapped our fluffy bathrobes for fancier evening wear and started proceedings with sunset cocktails at the rooftop bar. Camille and I both live in Margate, and sneaking away from the reality of our everyday lives just up the road made the sweeping views and seasonal cocktails feel even more luxurious. My Seaside Martini had more than a hint of salty seaweed with Boatyard gin, and Camille’s Sunset Picador was a grown-up mezcal and grapefruit twist on a Tequila Sunset. Playful flavours continued as we descended to the hotel terrace for dinner at its restaurant, Pearly Cow.

Seaweed mayonnaise made an apt dip in which to plunge crisp tempura-battered prawns, and whipped ricotta cradled a bright swirl of mustard leaf and fermented blood orange. Everything is sourced from local fields, boats and butchers, and features Kent’s best produce. The open robata grill brought some theatre to the room, chargrilling our 45-day salt-aged fillet steak to perfection. Layers of pressed potato were battered and deep-fried in beef fat to create a transcendental fried potato experience. Too fancy for ketchup, we dipped them in Dijonnaise and assuaged our guilt by munching through a flouncy butter leaf salad with fresh asparagus and radishes, for a splash of pink and green colour.

Strawberry soufflé had an ephemeral texture, like a cloud of summer berries that evaporated alongside clotted-cream ice cream for dessert. No.42 by GuestHouse’s trademark generosity then continued with petits fours of marshmallows, handmade fudge and biscuits. We certainly didn’t succumb to anymore pick ’n’ mix that night! The morning brought a refreshing walk on the beach and a multi-course breakfast in the sunlit restaurant. The reality of life might have been waiting outside the door, but for that moment we had the perfect holiday in Margate.