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’d booked this posh pad near Burnham Market – you know, one of those chocolate-box stone cottages with a thatched roof, wood-burning stove, and views over the salt marshes that stretch to the horizon. Arrived in mid-October, leaves turning that fiery copper and gold, and the air crisp enough to make your cheeks glow. Norfolk in autumn? It’s like the county’s had a makeover, all moody skies and golden-hour light that makes everything look like a Constable painting.

First morning, I cracked open the French doors to a mist rolling off the coast, perfect for a brisk walk along the Holkham Beach path. Summer crowds? Vanished. Just me, the seals barking from Blakeney Point, and the wind whipping up those massive Norfolk skies. Picked up fresh crab and samphire from a bloke at the harbour – seasonal gems that taste of the sea right there. Back at the cottage, I cracked on with lunch by the Aga, the windows steaming up while rain pattered outside. That’s the joy of autumn here: cosy indoor vibes when the weather turns, but step out and it’s invigorating, like nature’s giving you a gentle slap to wake up.

One afternoon, we trundled to Houghton Hall for their pumpkin festival – yes, really, fields of wonky orange orbs begging to be carved. I had a go at one, ended up with something resembling a lopsided potato, but who cares? Sipping mulled cider by the bonfire, watching kids in wellies dash about, it felt like stepping into a Beatrix Potter story. The season amps up the hygge factor; that cottage’s underfloor heating and plush throws became my best mates as evenings drew in early. We’d light the fire, crack a bottle of Norfolk red (from Winbirri Vineyards, naturally), and binge on board games while the wind howled. No telly needed – the view of twilight over the marshes was entertainment enough.

Mind you, there was a moment of self-reflection tramping across Brancaster Stump at low tide. Mud up to my knees, phone dead from the damp, I realised I’d been glued to screens back home. Out here, autumn strips it all back – no distractions, just the squelch of boots and the cry of curlews. Made me ponder how often we miss these simple resets. Another quiet laugh at myself: tried “foraging” blackberries, ended up with more thorns in my fingers than fruit in the basket. Still, that blackberry crumble with local cream? Autumnal perfection.

Norfolk’s luxury cottages shine brightest in shoulder seasons like this – rates dip, but the atmosphere soars. No sweaty queues at the chippy, just space to breathe, eat seasonal feasts like venison from nearby estates, and watch the landscape shift from green to amber. If you’re chasing that proper escape, time it for autumn. I’m already plotting a return – winter’s cosy glow next? Cheers to Norfolk for reminding me what unwinding really means.