Ten years ago I arrived in Kreuzberg, Berlin. I was 34 with no fixed abode. Everything I owned fitted into a carry-on suitcase half filled with books.

I was living monthly, sublet to sublet, across Europe. This time it was with a German artist from whom I rented a room with a mattress on the floor for €400. My first day, I bought a little red Eastern European bike on a street corner from a guy in a hoodie and cycled off to see the Tune-Yards at Berghain before realising I would rather have a kebab and a big sleep.

The months that followed were a blur of meeting friends of friends in dark bars with ripped sofas and velvet curtains, naked lake swimming and dancing on the stage at post-punk club SO36, frequented in its day by Iggy Pop and David Bowie, until dawn. I took part in the "Sunday Skate" with thousands of others crossing the finish line under Brandenburg Gate. I bought heavy 1980s jumpers with a very particular smell about them and had disastrous Tinder dates with egotistical American tech bros and taciturn German doctors. Essentially, I was living my bohemian European dream with red wine-stained lips and ink on my fingers and every type of freedom imaginable to me.

Over the years I returned to Berlin for a few months at a time, tapping back into the city’s energy, a home away from home.

But Berlin felt very much like a place of my youth and singledom and I hadn’t been in years. I mean? What is Berlin if you don’t go drink Berliner Kindl Weisse on a bench outside a Späti convenience store leading to a night tumbling through house parties and Turkish dive bars?

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Well, it was time for me to find out because my husband booked us a trip to Berlin for my birthday. And by us, I don't mean me and him, who are still capable of some hedonism given the chance, but also our four-year-old.

It's not that I didn't know that Berlin could be a great family destination. In fact, many of the friends I had 10 years ago had, like me, become parents, changed pace. But the truth is, I couldn't imagine it would be fun. Still, Berlin is known as a place that can be all things to all people, perhaps one of the reasons it has been so enduringly popular.

We began our weekend with brunch at Bloom, eating crispy mac and cheese with nduja crumb and supping a perfect Hugo spritz. The food, decor and location were all undeniably adult and yet they had a high chair and were happy to make our little boy a big snack of sourdough toast dripping in butter.

Afterwards we headed to Rent a Bike44, a community initiative where you can rent a vintage, but well-maintained, bike for €6 a day. Surely the cheapest in the city and, on this occasion, they even sourced a toddler trailer for us.

And so, to chants of "Faster mummy, faster!", we cycled to the local playground where we watched our kid go a little feral on the trampoline while we watched on with hot apple juice topped with whipped cream: one of my favourite Berlin autumn traditions.

Of course, it was a birthday so there had to be cake. The only option, in my opinion, for a slice of perfect Berlin cheesecake was Gorilla Bäckerei. There you can not only gawk at the astoundingly hip clientele but the honestly-sexier hand-rolling of croissants.

Much of Berlin's beauty is simply in wandering the streets and enjoying the atmosphere. Even on the coldest and rainiest of days, people were out cycling, drinking, eating and shopping. It is, as the kids say, a vibe.

We dropped into the Karl-Marx-Straße 107 branch of Humana Second-hand, the most lavish charity shop I have ever visited, with domed ceilings and marble lobby but the real trick is to do as the locals do; go to the "sale room" where you can get a beautiful vintage dress or a thick Bavarian jumper for €3-5.

Now, if I’d had my own way, I’d have taken my bulging carrier bag straight to the Stadtbad Neukölln where, for a reasonable price you can swim and sauna. It's barely changed since its design in 1914, originally intended to allow Berliners to "bathe like a Roman". But we had a party to get ready for.

A train in Kreuzberg, BerlinA train in Kreuzberg, Berlin (Image: PA)

I have to admit, Saturday night in Berlin with a kid does hit differently, in particular because October 12 is an evening when local schools and organisations across the city open their doors and hold "Family Night". On offer is everything from stargazing to science experiments to concerts by the Berlin Philharmonic. In our case, we danced our socks off at a mini-disco, ate some messily-iced cupcakes, and watched as adorable little munchkins carried around lanterns on strings singing traditional songs.

Back at our holiday apartment, our wee one partied out and in bed, we sat on the balcony, played "Rear View Window" making up stories about the opposite block, drank a whole bottle of Vinho Verde while shivering in our winter coats and declared it not quite a rager, but a really nice evening.

I think a lot about life in terms of before motherhood and after. This visit to Berlin was maybe the final shedding of that skinny, reckless younger woman who did as she pleased. But it also showed me the other rewards I get from motherhood: watching birds chirping about the trees while eating pecan and whiskey ice cream and observing my little boy's excited squeals was perhaps the best moment I’ve ever had in Berlin.

I realised, sitting in an airport cafe having one final bratwurst, I could not expect the old me to transpose itself into the new me, who is a mother. Those two women are forged by such different experiences. Our little boy was sleeping in my arms, soft and marshmallowy, his little mouth slightly open. On the wall a faux-vintage Pepsi advertisement proclaimed "Live for now!" Perhaps that’s really the spirit of Berlin, a place that can be all things to all people, if you just embrace what comes.

Kerry Hudson is an award-winning, bestselling novelist and memoirist and a member of the British Guild of Travel Writers. You can find her on Instagram and on Threads @ThatKerryHudson