Just got back from the most cracking week in a luxury holiday cottage in Norfolk, and blimey, the autumn season turned it into pure magic. I booked this posh spot near Burnham Market – think thatched roof, wood-burning stove, and views over the salt marshes that stretch to the horizon. Mid-October, the Norfolk Broads and coast were in that golden phase, all fiery leaves and crisp mornings, which made everything feel like a cosy hug from nature.

Woke up each day to mist rolling off the fields, the kind that makes you reach for a steaming cuppa before even thinking about breakfast. The cottage's garden was a riot of rustling copper beeches and fallen chestnuts, perfect for that first gentle wander. I’d crunch along the paths, pretending I was in a Brontë novel, though my wellies were more Tesco than bespoke. The seasonal shift meant no summer crowds trampling the dunes at Holkham Beach – just me, the seals barking offshore, and a wind that whipped up the North Sea into frothy peaks. We wrapped up in scarves for bracing walks, spotting redwings migrating overhead, their chirps a reminder that Norfolk’s wild heart beats strongest when the tourists thin out.

Evenings were the real treat, shaped by that shortening daylight. Sunset hit around half four, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges that reflected off the cottage’s pond. Inside, we’d light the Aga for slow-roasted Norfolk turkey from a local farm shop – autumn’s bounty meant plump apples from orchards near Holt for crumbles, and chestnuts roasted on the fire. One night, huddled by the flames with a mulled cider, I had a proper moment of reflection: work’s been manic lately, and out here, with the wind howling and rain pattering the windows, I realised how rare it is to just sit and breathe. No screens, no rush – the season forced that slowness on you, like the earth saying, “Oi, slow down.”

Ventured to Blakeney Point one afternoon for a seal-watching boat trip. The chill air sharpened everything – the guillemots diving, the hares boxing in the stubble fields. Light humour ensued when I slipped on wet seaweed, emerging like a soggy seal pup myself. Laughed it off with the skipper, who reckoned it’s a right of passage for landlubbers in October. Back at the cottage, hot baths and plush robes waited, the luxury feeling extra indulgent against the season’s raw edge.

Another quiet reflection came stargazing from the hot tub – Norfolk’s dark skies explode in autumn, Orion rising early. Lying there, steam rising into the frosty night, I thought about how summer holidays rush by, but this time of year lingers in your bones. The cottage stayed warm and inviting, but the wild Norfolk outside reminded me life’s best when you lean into the change. If you’re after a getaway that seasons your soul, hit Norfolk in autumn. Absolute belter.