I finally made it to that smart little apartment above the owners' cottage, just a mile from Peasedown, after what felt like the most faffing journey ever. I'd set off from Bristol full of beans, buzzing about escaping to Bath's countryside edge for a proper unwind. Picture this: sat-nav confidently directing me down these narrow Somerset lanes, only for it to chuck it down with rain just as I missed the turning for Peasedown St John. Cue me splashing through puddles, reversing into a hedge (nothing major, just a bit of twiggy embarrassment), and arriving with mud up to my ankles and a soggy map in the passenger seat. I was half-laughing, half-cursing my lack of preparation – classic me, always winging it.

Pulling up outside, though, all that chaos melted away. The place is neat and compact, perched right above the owners' own cottage, with these spectacular views stretching out over the rolling rural landscape. I stepped inside, shaking off the rain, and proper grinned – it's furnished to a high standard, light and airy, perfect for a couple like me and Sarah wanting to dip into Bath's buzz but retreat to this peaceful spot. The sitting room's the star, with a comfy sofa bed that'd suit a kid if we ever bring one along, and those far-reaching windows that make you forget you're only a quick drive from the city. One minute it's misty fields in the gloom, the next golden light over the hills – changes with the weather like a living painting.

First impressions? Spot on. We dumped our bags and cracked open a bottle of local cider from the nearby village shop – grabbed it en route despite the downpour – then flopped on the sofa watching the view shift from grey skies to a sneaky sunset. No grand tour needed; it's all so thoughtfully laid out, with everything you need without the clutter. That evening, we nipped the mile into Peasedown for fish and chips at the local, chatting to villagers about the best Bath spots. Kept it simple, savouring the quiet after our soggy arrival antics.

Next morning, anticipation kicked in proper. A short hop to Bath – about 15 minutes – and we wandered the Roman Baths, marvelling at the steam rising like something out of history class, then mooched through the Abbey and grabbed cream tea at Sally Lunn's. Back at the apartment by tea time, views glowing in the late sun, we reflected on how daft it was stressing the drive. Me, always the planner-turned-panic-merchant, realised ditching the rush for these rural retreats is the real win. It's that mix of city sparkle and countryside hush that makes places like this gold dust. If you're after a Bath base with soul-soothing vibes, this is it – mishaps and all. Can't wait to go back.