I’ll never forget the drive down to that holiday spot near Lanhydrock – the satnav decided to play silly buggers just past Exeter, sending us on a detour through some winding lanes that had me white-knuckling the wheel while the missus clutched her tea flask like a lifeline. We’d been buzzing with anticipation all morning, dreaming of proper Cornish air and proper walks, but by the time we finally rolled up, we were a bit frazzled. Still, one glimpse of the place and all that melted away. It’s the kind of space you immediately settle into and feel at home. Once part of the Lanhydrock Estate, this fantastic property is designed with comfort in mind and is packed with modern features that lend a real sense of luxury while still retaining a lot of its original character. It’s also pet-friendly, meaning guests with four-legged friends can bring them along on holiday to enjoy a break too, with many wonderful walks in the area offering them plenty of opportunity for adventure. Our labrador, Monty, was in heaven from the off, tail wagging like a metronome.

First morning, the sun was cracking the flags – or at least peeking through decent enough for us to lace up our boots and head straight out for the Lanhydrock estate trails. It’s right on the doorstep, those lush gardens and woodland paths winding through ancient trees and past the grand house itself. We did a good five-miler, Monty splashing in streams while we munched pasties we’d grabbed from the estate café. Proper idyllic, that – the kind of walk where you forget you’re only a couple of hours from the motorway grind. I even managed a joggy bit, feeling all virtuous until I tripped over a root and ended up with mud up to my knees. Laugh? We howled.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour, hasn’t it? Come afternoon, the sky turned that moody grey, and the heavens opened. No chance of extending the hike; instead, we hunkered down with tea and board games, Monty snoring by the Aga. Next day was a classic: bright start lured us onto the Glynn Valley path, a gentle riverside ramble with bluebells nodding in the breeze and buzzards overhead. We clocked seven miles, stopping for blackberry foraging (well, me picking, her photographing). Felt like we’d earned those cream teas back at the barn.

Then, sod’s law, day three brought horizontal rain and a gale that had the trees thrashing. Plans for the Cardinham Woods loop? Scrubbed. We pivoted to a shorter estate circuit, hoods up, laughing as we dodged puddles the size of ponds. Monty didn’t care – he bounded through like a soggy otter. It was bracing, character-building stuff, the sort that reminds you why you love these holidays: the unpredictability, the fresh air no matter what.

Looking back, those weather-whipped walks were the highlights. They forced us to slow down, chat more, appreciate the little things like steam rising off wet fur or that first ray breaking through. I suppose that’s the gentle magic of Cornwall – it doesn’t just give you views; it gives you stories. We’re already plotting the next trip.