I’ll never forget the drive down to Ramsgate – sat nav insisting we take some dodgy shortcut through Thanet’s back lanes, only for us to end up behind a tractor trundling along at snail’s pace. My other half was tapping the wheel, muttering about missing the football, but I was secretly chuffed. It forced us to slow right down, windows cracked open to that briny sea air, and by the time we rolled into town, the anticipation was bubbling. What if it was one of those places that looked better online? Silly worry, really.

Pulling up opposite the beach, first impressions hit like a wave – this stylish apartment with its panoramic sea views was spot on, plonked right next to the famous Ramsgate Tunnels and a stone’s throw from the country’s only Royal Harbour. The whole setup screamed relaxed seaside vibe: yachts bobbing in the harbour, the sun glinting off the water (no wonder Ramsgate nabbed the sunniest spot in the UK crown back in 2021, alongside Margate and Broadstairs). We dumped the bags and cracked open a cuppa on the balcony, grinning like idiots at the view stretching out to the horizon.

The joy of it all? Doing absolutely sod all, and loving every minute. No grand plans, no ticking off lists – just lazy days melting into one another. Mornings kicked off with brekkie in the garden area, feet up on a rickety chair, me buried in a dog-eared paperback while the sea whispered in the background. There’s something magic about that rhythm: pages turning slow, the odd gull squawking overhead, and not a care beyond deciding if it’s time for another brew. We’d wander five minutes to the harbour for a mooch – grab fish and chips from one of those no-frills spots, perch on a bench watching the yacht crowd tinkering with their boats. Lively but low-key, with bars and eateries spilling chatter onto the pavement. Perfect for nursing a pint and pretending you’re on holiday forever.

Afternoons were pure bliss in the garden, sprawled out with a book (I’m on my third Jackie Collins this week – don’t judge), the sun warming my toes. One day we fancied a gentle plod along the Viking Coastal Path, just far enough to Margate’s Turner Contemporary for a nose around the arty exhibits, then back for more lounging. No rushing – that’s the point. It’s funny, isn’t it? We’re always chasing the next thing at home, but here, slowing down felt like the real treat. Made me reflect on how knackering busy can be; a week of this and I’m recharged, softer around the edges.

Evenings? Cosy dinners thrown together from the local shops – nothing fancy, just pasta and wine on the balcony as the sun dipped, painting the sky pink over the beach. No TV, no scrolling, just us chatting rubbish and listening to the waves. Ramsgate’s got that unpretentious charm: close enough for a Westwood Cross retail wander if the mood struck (it didn’t), but we never bothered. Who needs shops when you’ve got this? Left feeling utterly content, plotting our return already. If you’re after proper downtime, this is your spot.