Just got back from the most cracking week in a luxury holiday cottage in Norfolk, and blimey, the autumn timing made it pure magic. I’d booked this posh pile in the North Norfolk countryside near Burnham Market – think thatched roof, wood-fired hot tub, and views over endless marshlands turning all golden and rusty in October. Arriving as the leaves were proper crisping up, it felt like the season had rolled out the red carpet, or should I say the amber one.

First morning, I cracked open the bifold doors to a misty dawn chorus – seals barking from Blakeney Point, and the air so fresh it slapped the city fug right out of me. Autumn’s cooler edge meant cosying up with the cottage’s Aga for brekkie; I whipped up smoked kippers from the local smokery, paired with crusty bread from Holt’s bakery. No sweaty summer scramble for beach parking here – we had the place to ourselves. A brisk walk along the coastal path to Holkham Beach was heaven: dunes glowing in that low, slanted light, waves crashing with a chill nip that had me zipping up my Barbour. I must’ve looked a right lemon battling the wind for a selfie, but honestly, it was liberating – no filters needed when Norfolk’s palette is this painterly.

Midweek, we trundled to Cromer for crab fresh off the boats. October’s calmer seas meant bumper catches, and scoffing a Cromer crab sandwich on the pier, wrapped in a scarf against the sea spray, beat any summer tourist scrum. Back at the cottage, evenings were all about that seasonal glow: logs crackling in the inglenook fireplace, mulled cider from the estate’s orchard steaming away. The hot tub under starry skies? Divine, with steam rising like a personal spa fog, though I did have a giggle slipping in too quick and emerging like a boiled lobster.

One quiet moment by the window, watching rain patter on the fens, I reflected on how autumn strips things bare – no hiding behind sunglasses or ice-cream distractions. It forced me to slow down, savour the quiet luxury of just being. No FOMO from mates’ Insta feeds; this was my mindful reset. We even spotted barn owls hunting at dusk from the garden, a proper seasonal treat you’d miss in high summer’s glare.

By week’s end, as frost nipped the pumpkin patches we’d foraged for a pie, I was gutted to leave. Norfolk in autumn isn’t just a holiday; it’s a full-body hug from nature, reminding you life’s best when you let the seasons lead. If you’re pondering a getaway, ditch peak summer – go now, before winter claims it. Cheerio for now!