I finally made it to Bath after what felt like the world's most faffing-about journey. I'd set off from London full of beans, dreaming of Georgian grandeur and a proper cuppa in a cosy cottage, but no – first, the M4 decided to throw a spanner in the works with roadworks that turned a two-hour drive into three and a half. Then, as I neared the city, my sat-nav lost its marbles and tried to send me down a one-way street the wrong way. Heart in mouth, I pulled a hasty three-point turn (more like five-point, if I'm honest), narrowly avoiding a clip from a cyclist who gave me the universal "what are you playing at?" glare. By the time I trundled into that quiet little mews in northern Bath, I was frazzled, parched, and questioning my life choices.

But oh, pulling up to the cottage? Instant magic. It's this light, cosy spot perfect for up to three, all characterful nooks and welcoming vibes – like stepping into a hug from an old mate. The anticipation I'd built up on the drive (Roman Baths! Afternoon tea!) melted into sheer delight at first sight. The place sits tucked away, peaceful as you like, yet you're a stone's throw from friendly pubs and shops. I dumped my bags, cracked open a window, and just breathed it in – that fresh Bath air, hinting at all the exploring ahead.

First impressions? Spot on. We (me, my other half, and our mate who'd joined for the weekend) unpacked amid much laughter over my arrival antics, then wandered out to test the waters. Five minutes and we're at The Circus, that perfect circle of honey-coloured elegance that makes you feel like you've wandered onto a film set. We gawped like proper tourists, me snapping away while trying not to trip over the kerb in excitement. A quick loop to the nearby Assembly Rooms had us peering through windows at the grand ballroom, imagining Jane Austen types swirling about. But the real showstopper was the Royal Crescent – we ambled along it as the sun dipped, that sweeping curve leading straight into Royal Victoria Park. We flopped on the grass there, picnicking with pasties from a nearby bakery, watching dogs chase frisbees and kids burn off energy. Pure bliss after my travel trauma.

Evening called, so south across the city to the buzz – Bath Abbey glowing under lights, the Roman Baths steaming mysteriously (we saved the full tour for tomorrow), and a cheeky pint in a pub near the Pump Room. Laughter echoed as we recounted my sat-nav saga; turns out, the mishaps made the arrival all the sweeter. Back at the cottage, curled up with tea and a board game, I had one of those quiet moments – you know, reflecting on how these little getaways remind you life's too short for perfect plans. Sometimes the chaos is the best bit. Can't wait for the walks tomorrow – Sydney Gardens beckon, or maybe a Cotswolds tease just north. Bath, you've hooked me proper.