I’ll never forget the drive to Blakeney – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked off our holiday. We’d piled into the car back in Gloucester, me navigating on my phone while my partner drove, both buzzing with that pre-holiday excitement. But halfway there, sat-nav lost signal in the Forest of Dean’s twisty lanes, and we ended up doing a full loop past a field of bemused cows. Then, the real fun: a sudden downpour turned the narrow road into a river, and we aquaplaned slightly, hearts in mouths, before pulling over to laugh it off with a quick thermos of tea. By the time we spotted the village pub across the road – our landmark – we were soaked, windswept, and utterly ready for whatever this place had in store.

Spotting the property right there opposite the pub felt like a proper win. It’s this lovely first-floor studio apartment in the heart of Huntley, just a stone’s throw from Blakeney proper, with countryside views that hit you straight away. We parked on site, grabbed our bags, and dashed across in the rain, fumbling the key code like amateurs. Up the stairs we went, dripping puddles, and honestly, the first impression? Magic. The bedroom-lounge combo opened up with this massive king-sized bed that looked like it was begging us to collapse into it, flanked by a cosy seating area. Flicked on the electric heater, and within minutes we were toasty, sprawled out with the Smart TV humming in the background. The views out the window? Rolling fields and that classic Gloucestershire green – pure bliss after our road farce.

We barely unpacked before wandering over to the pub for a pint and a ploughman’s, still chuckling about our soggy arrival. Huntley’s so quaint, isn’t it? That gentle village vibe where everyone nods hello, and Blakeney’s just down the road with its harbour and seals if you fancy a stroll. Next morning, after sinking into that bed like it was made for us (it probably was), we ventured out for a gentle ramble along the lanes – spotted a few walkers with dogs, breathed in that fresh air, and popped into Newent for a mooch around the market, only 4.9 miles away. Nothing rushed, just ambling, picking up local cheese and chatting to folks who knew all the best spots.

Looking back, that chaotic journey was the perfect setup. It made the quiet of the studio feel even more like a hug – no grand plans, just us, a heater’s glow, and the countryside whispering outside. I caught myself reflecting one evening, feet up, tea in hand: why do we rush life when spots like this remind you to slow down? We left feeling recharged, already plotting a return. If you’re after a couple’s escape without the faff, this is it – mishaps and all.