I’ll never forget the drive down to that countryside spot just outside Bath – satnav had me convinced we were nearly there, then it chucked us into a narrow lane that turned into a muddy quagmire after a sneaky shower. We skidded to a halt, hearts in mouths, laughing like idiots as I reversed out with the finesse of a learner driver. But honestly, that little mishap just ramped up the anticipation; by the time we crested the hill and spotted the place, I was buzzing. It’s this stylish first-floor loft in a peaceful annexe, perfect for two, with external wooden steps leading up to a cracking view over rolling fields. Stepping inside felt like slipping into someone else’s cosy dream – open-plan living space, snug sofa facing a smart telly, and a king-size bedroom that screamed ‘relax now’.

First impressions? Spot on. We dumped the bags, cracked open a bottle of local cider from the offie, and flopped on the patio overlooking the owner’s lush gardens. But the real magic kicked off when we decided to wander without a plan – no Google Maps, just boots on and out the door. That’s when you stumble on Bath’s proper hidden gems, the off-the-beaten-track bits that make you feel like you’ve nicked a secret from the tourists.

We got gloriously lost on one of those countryside strolls right from the doorstep, meandering through hedges and past babbling streams until we pitched up at Newton St Loe’s farm shop. What a find! We weren’t even looking for it, but there it was – award-winning cheeses, fresh pies, and a café where we scoffed scones slathered in clotted cream, chatting with locals about the best cider presses. Pure accident, total bliss. Another day, aiming for a quick pint, we veered off the path and ended up at the Ring of Bells in Priston. Tucked away in this sleepy village, it’s got that proper pub vibe – flagstone floors, a roaring fire, and ciders so good they make you forget the world. We nursed pints on the benches outside, watching the sun dip, feeling like we’d gatecrashed someone’s family do.

Bath city’s only a short hop away – three-quarters of a mile, if you’re counting – but even there, we chased the quiet corners. Got lost in the back lanes behind the Abbey, stumbling on teeny tearooms where the cakes are homemade and the chatter’s all about village gossip. One evening, we wandered those UNESCO streets at dusk, away from the Roman Baths crowds, and found a hidden garden square where locals picnic. It’s those serendipitous moments, isn’t it? Getting lost sharpens everything – the air smells sweeter, the views hit harder.

Sitting there on our third night, curled up with my other half on that two-seater sofa, shower-fresh and content, I had a proper think. Life’s so rushed back home; us lot from the city forget how good it feels to let go, to embrace the daft detours. This break wasn’t about ticking boxes – it was those accidental discoveries that stuck. If you’re after a couples’ escape that’s equal parts peaceful and full of surprise, hunt out a spot like this. You might skid in, but you’ll float out grinning.