I’ll never forget the drive to the Cotswolds – a proper faff from the motorway, dodging those narrow lanes that seem to twist just to test your patience. About halfway there, we had a right old moment when the sat-nav decided to send us down what felt like a goat track, complete with a rogue pheasant strutting across like it owned the place. Heart in mouth, we squeezed past a tractor, laughing nervously as mud splattered the windscreen. But oh, the anticipation built as those rolling hills came into view, promising a proper escape.

Pulling up to this first-floor apartment tucked in the heart of Stow-on-the-Wold, my first impressions were spot on. Two off-road parking spaces – bliss after that drive – and then up the stairs to this cosy central spot in the town. Stepping inside, it was all warmth and welcome: a spacious living-dining room with a coal-effect gas fire flickering away, inviting you to flop onto the sofa with the telly remote in hand. The kitchen’s brilliantly kitted out too, though we barely used it beyond brewing tea and toasting crumpets.

The joy of it all? Doing absolutely nothing, really. After years of rushing about, this holiday was my gentle nudge to slow right down. Mornings started late, with strong coffee in hand, gazing out at the quiet garden below – a little shared green haven perfect for pottering without a care. I’d settle into one of the comfy chairs with a dog-eared paperback, losing hours to tales of long-forgotten adventures while the world outside hummed softly. Lunch was a lazy affair: cheese from the market square just a stroll away, eaten at the dining table for four, swapping idle chit-chat about clouds or nothing at all.

Afternoons melted into garden lounging when the sun peeked out – stretching out on a blanket with a flask, watching bees bumble about the flowers. No grand plans, just the simple thrill of birdsong and breeze. Evenings by the fire were pure magic; we’d light it up early, sip wine, and let the day’s non-events replay in contented murmurs. One night, I caught myself staring into the flames, reflecting on how I’ve forgotten to breathe easy amid life’s bustle. This place reminded me it’s okay to just be – no checklists, no clocks.

A quick wander to Stow’s market square for a pasty or fudge kept things ticking over without effort, but mostly we stayed put, savouring the apartment’s snug embrace. It’s ideal for a couple or small family craving that Cotswolds calm. Leaving felt bittersweet; I’m already plotting a return to do even less. If you’re after recharging with zero guilt, this is your spot.