I’ll never forget the drive down to Mullion last month – we’d packed the car to the brim with snacks, books, and enough wine to sink a ship, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a massive traffic jam just past St Austell. Half an hour of inching along, engine humming like an impatient bee, and me fiddling with the radio for anything but the shipping forecast. Still, by the time we crested that final hill into the village, the anticipation was bubbling over. There it was, our end-terrace holiday home hugging the coast, reverse-level with those jaw-dropping panoramic views straight out to sea. First impressions? Pure magic – the kind that makes you grin like a kid at Christmas.

Stepping inside felt like slipping into a warm hug. Downstairs, the two super-king bedrooms were an absolute dream, one opening right onto the enclosed terrace where the hot tub sat winking at us invitingly. Upstairs, that open-plan living space was spot on for doing precisely nowt but lounging about. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle, sinking into the plush sofas by the gas fire as the waves crashed below. No grand plans, you see – this trip was all about slowing right down, letting Cornwall’s gentle rhythm take over.

Lazy days blurred into one another, and I loved every soporific second. Mornings kicked off with brekkie on the balcony, doors flung wide to the salty breeze and that endless ocean hum. Porridge never tasted so good. Then it was straight to the terrace with a book – I devoured a battered copy of Poldark while the others nodded off in the sun. The garden area was perfect for it, all private and cosy, with views that begged you to stare into the middle distance. Afternoons? Hot tub dips, naturally. Bubbling away as gulls wheeled overhead, feeling the knots of everyday life melt into the foam. We’d pop over to the Mullion Cove Hotel now and then – just a stone’s throw – for a lazy swim in their outdoor heated pool, sea views making it feel like our own private infinity edge. Or a gentle steam in the thermal spa, followed by a GandT at the bar. Fine dining without the faff.

Evenings were pure bliss: rustling up simple suppers in the well-stocked kitchen – think pasties from the village shop, elevated with a bit of local clotted cream – then movie nights huddled by the fire. No rushing about Lizard Point or Poldhu Beach hikes for us; we were too busy savouring the joy of doing very little. One afternoon, lounging there with a cuppa, I caught myself reflecting: back home, life’s a whirlwind of deadlines and to-do lists, but here? It hit me how rare it is to just *be*. No guilt, no FOMO – just the sea, good company, and that profound contentment of switching off.

We stayed four nights, minimum’s three apparently, and it was spot on. If you’re after a tranquil sea escape where the highlight is mastering the art of idleness, this is your spot. Families or mates, it’d suit brilliantly – we were hooked. Can’t wait to go back.