We’d been on the road for hours, the A1 stretching out like it had a personal grudge against us, when the satnav decided we’d had enough fun and sent us down a single-track lane that promptly turned into someone’s driveway. Cue the three-point turn that became a five-point embarrassment, with a tractor driver watching from a gateway like he’d seen it all before. By the time we finally pulled up outside The Croft, the sun was low over the fields and the sea was just a pale shimmer beyond the dunes.

The cottage sat back from the lane in that unshowy Northumberland way, all stone and quiet, with a little gravel patch for the car and a gate that clicked shut behind us like it meant business. I fumbled with the key safe for longer than I’d like to admit, then stepped inside to the smell of woodsmoke and something faintly lemony. The living room was low-ceilinged and cosy, with a wood burner already laid and a couple of well-thumbed paperbacks left on the windowsill. Through the back window I could see the dunes rising, and beyond them the faint line of the beach where the tide was just beginning to turn.

We dumped our bags and wandered straight out, following the narrow path that cut between marram grass and came out onto the sand. It was that soft, pale stuff that gets everywhere, and within minutes my shoes were full of it. The beach curved gently north and south, empty except for a couple walking their dog and a few oystercatchers picking along the waterline. The air tasted properly salty, the way it only does when you’ve driven far enough to leave the cities behind.

Back at the cottage, I made tea in the little kitchen while my partner claimed the best armchair by the window. We sat there with the doors open, listening to the gulls and the distant hush of the waves, and I found myself thinking how easy it is to forget what quiet actually sounds like until you’re properly away from everything. The mishap on the lane already felt like part of the story rather than a nuisance, the sort of small chaos that makes the calm afterwards feel earned. Outside, the light was fading over the fields, and for the first time in weeks I wasn’t checking my phone every five minutes.