We’d barely made it past Alnwick when the satnav decided we were taking the scenic route, and by that it meant sending us down a single-track lane that narrowed until the hedgerows were practically brushing the wing mirrors. A sudden bend and a rogue pothole sent my coffee flying across the passenger seat in a perfect arc, soaking the map we’d printed “just in case.” By the time we pulled up at Nook Cottage, the satnav was sulking in silence and I was wearing most of a latte.

The cottage itself looked exactly as promised: a low, stone-built hideaway tucked behind a low wall, with a little wooden gate that squeaked like it had been waiting to greet us. The key was in the promised lockbox, and inside it smelled faintly of woodsmoke and fresh bread left out by the owners. We dropped our bags, wiped up the worst of the coffee, and stepped straight out again because the sea was only a short wander away and neither of us could wait.

What we meant to do was find the beach path marked on the map; what we actually did was follow a narrow track that wound between fields and suddenly opened onto a stretch of sand we hadn’t even known existed. There were no car parks, no signs, just a handful of locals walking their dogs and the odd driftwood bonfire ring half-buried in the dunes. We walked until the only sounds were waves and the occasional gull, then turned inland on a whim and promptly got properly lost among quiet lanes bordered by dry-stone walls and tiny, unexpected farm shops. One of them sold still-warm sausage rolls and bottles of local ginger beer; we bought both and ate them sitting on a bench that turned out to overlook a hidden cove reachable only by a steep, unofficial path locals clearly use but never advertise.

By late afternoon we were back at the cottage with sandy shoes and the beginnings of a sunburn, marvelling at how a wrong turn and a spilled coffee had led us to places we’d never have found with a perfect satnav. Sitting on the little bench outside as the light faded, I found myself thinking how often I plan every minute of a holiday only to discover the best bits happen when the plan falls apart.