We set off from Bristol just after breakfast, convinced the satnav knew a shortcut that would shave off a good half-hour. By the time we trundled into the car park at Sebright, it was late afternoon and my patience was hanging by a thread. The cottage itself looked exactly as it had online: a low, whitewashed place tucked behind a low stone wall, with the sea glinting between the rooftops. I killed the engine, stretched, and promptly locked the keys inside the boot along with the beach bag, the milk, and both pairs of flip-flops.

My partner took one look at the situation and burst out laughing, which didn’t help the mood at all. We stood there for a ridiculous minute, peering through the glass like a pair of disappointed tourists, until the owner’s neighbour wandered over with a spare key and a knowing grin. Keys retrieved, dignity marginally restored, we finally stepped inside.

The front door opened straight into a bright little living room where everything smelled faintly of sea air and fresh linen. A squashy sofa faced a wood-burner that looked well used, and a low table held a couple of well-thumbed paperbacks about Cornish shipwrecks. Beyond that, a narrow galley kitchen gave straight onto a patio barely bigger than a picnic blanket, with two striped deckchairs already angled towards the view. From there the path dropped sharply between brambles and tamarisk down to the beach, and even from the doorstep we could hear the soft, steady hush of waves on shingle.

We dropped our bags, kicked off our shoes, and wandered down before unpacking properly. The tide was on its way out, leaving long, glistening stretches of sand dotted with rock pools. A couple of locals were walking their dogs further along, and the air tasted properly salty. Back at the cottage the windows were already open, letting in that clean, cool breeze that makes every other room feel stuffy by comparison.

Later, with fish and chips from the village van balanced on our knees, we sat on the patio and watched the light fade. The mishap with the boot already felt like the sort of small disaster you only remember fondly once you’re home again. It had forced us to slow down from the moment we arrived, and somehow that had set the tone for everything since.