I’ll never forget the drive down to mid-Cornwall last month – we’d packed the car to bursting with wellies, books, and enough snacks to see us through a siege, only for the sat-nav to have a proper hissy fit just past Bodmin. It kept rerouting us down these tiny lanes that felt more like goat tracks, and I ended up reversing into a hedge while arguing with my other half about whether to trust Google Maps instead. Classic us, really. But as we finally trundled into St Wenn, the stress melted away. There it was, this perfect spot tucked in the tranquil countryside, and my heart did a little flip – I could already picture lazy days ahead.

Pulling up, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. Perfect for special occasions or multi-generational gatherings, this luxurious retreat is a delight, full of thoughtful details and high-quality amenities. Consisting of two separate properties: a farmhouse for eight and an outbuilding, just yards away, that sleeps two, it’s set in the tranquil mid-Cornwall countryside, yet only a few miles from beautiful beaches and family attractions. We’d booked it for a family get-together – me, my husband, our two lads, and my mum and dad – and it felt like stepping into someone’s dream of the good life. The anticipation built as we unpacked, that buzz of “this is going to be brilliant.”

From the off, though, the real joy was doing sod all. Cornwall’s got its pull – we nipped to nearby Bowithick Wood for a gentle wander one morning, marvelling at the bluebells, and another day we drove the short hop to the sandy stretches at Rock beach, dipping toes in the sea without even bothering with swimsuits. But honestly? The magic was in the slowing down. Those lazy cottage days became our religion. We’d flop in the sprawling garden, surrounded by birdsong and the hum of bees, mugs of tea in hand. I devoured three paperbacks in a row – proper escapist stuff, the kind you forget the world for – while the lads sprawled on blankets playing cards or fiddling with a frisbee. Mum took over the outbuilding like her personal spa, emerging for elevenses with a glow.

There’s something hilariously restorative about it all. One afternoon, I caught Dad attempting to “help” with the barbecue – he singed his eyebrows charring a single sausage, and we howled with laughter over cider from a local farm shop just down the road. No grand plans, no rushing about. Just that gentle rhythm: breakfast stretching into brunch, siestas in the hammock, evening chats as the sun dipped behind the hills. I had a quiet moment of self-reflection one evening, sat there with a GandT, watching the sky turn pink. Life back home’s a whirlwind of deadlines and dash – here, I realised how knackered I’d been, and how blooming marvellous it felt to just breathe. No FOMO, no scrolling, pure unadulterated nothing.

By the time we packed up, reluctantly, we were all a bit softer around the edges – in the best way. If you’re craving a reset, this is it. Cornwall whispers “stay a while,” and boy, did we listen.