I’ll never forget the drive down to Kent last autumn – leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold all along the A20, but of course, I managed to hit a massive puddle just past Ashford, soaking the windscreen and turning my little Fiesta into a temporary aquarium. Mopping up with a soggy pack of tissues, I laughed it off, heart racing a bit with that mix of excitement and ‘why me?’ as the satnav finally chimed we were nearly there. Pulling up to this cracking little holiday spot, I was gobsmacked – a properly done-up old Lookers Hut, all cosy brick nestled right in the Romney Marsh countryside, with vines from the nearby vineyard glowing amber in the low sun. First impressions? Pure magic, especially with that crisp October nip in the air making everything feel like a proper seasonal hug.

Stepping inside, the open-plan living space hit me like a warm embrace – those huge bi-folding doors flung wide to a private terrace, where the hot tub was already bubbling invitingly against the fading light. Autumn’s mellow hues painted the views: misty fields stretching out, sheep dotted about like fluffy commas on the landscape. It’s pet-friendly too, which was spot-on for my scruffy terrier, Alfie, who wasted no time claiming the rug by the wood-burning stove. We lit it that first evening, crackling away as the chill deepened outside, sipping mulled wine I’d rustled up from local apple juice and cinnamon. The modern touches blended so well with the hut’s rustic charm, all flooded with soft light – perfect for cosying in as the days grew shorter.

The season really shaped our days here. Mornings started with frosty walks straight from the door, crunching through dew-kissed grass along the Saxon Shore Way, Alfie bounding ahead through the turning foliage. We’d spot redwings flitting about, migrants fresh in on the autumn winds, and the air smelled of damp earth and fallen apples. One highlight was ambling down the footpath to the Ferry Inn – just a short hop, and dog-friendly to boot. Their seasonal Rye Bay scallops were divine, plump and sweet, pan-fried with a bit of garlic and lemon, washed down with a pint of local ale by the fire. It felt like the marsh itself was on the plate, all briny and tied to the harvest vibes.

Afternoons, we’d pootle over to Camber Sands, those vast golden dunes holding onto summer’s warmth even as the wind whipped up. Building sandcastles with Alfie (well, him digging holes, me pretending to help), we watched the grey waves roll in under dramatic skies – proper autumn beach therapy. Closer by, a wander around Tenterden’s vineyards in their harvest rush was a treat; we even joined a quick tour, tasting crisp whites that cut through the earthy chill. Evenings back at the hut were bliss: hot tub under starry skies, steam rising as leaves swirled down, reflecting on how this time of year strips things back to simple joys.

Sitting there one night, stove glowing, I had a quiet moment thinking how daft I can be rushing about city life when spots like this remind you to slow down. Autumn wrapped it all in that golden glow – shorter days, richer colours, heartier comforts. If you’re after a proper country escape for two (plus pooch), this Kent gem in fall is unbeatable. Made me book again for next year already.