I’ll never forget the drive down to the Cotswolds – a proper British road trip, complete with sat-nav faffing out just as we hit the twisty lanes near Bourton-on-the-Water. We’d been buzzing with anticipation, dreaming of lazy walks and cream teas, when suddenly the car’s tyre decided to go flat as a pancake on a narrow single-track. Cue 20 minutes of me and the other half wrestling with the spare in the drizzle, laughing at how we looked like extras from a Carry On film. Mercifully, we got sorted without too much drama, and as we finally pulled up to our holiday home on the outskirts of the village, the first impressions were spot on. Two off-road parking spaces made unloading a doddle, and stepping inside this wooden-clad three-bed beauty felt like a warm hug – bright, airy open-plan living with floor-to-ceiling windows framing those rolling hill views. Luxury without the fuss, perfect for our walking-focused getaway.

First morning, the weather gods smiled: blue skies, crisp autumn air, ideal for a gentle hike along the River Windrush. Bourton-on-the-Water’s just 2.2 miles away, so we wandered into the village, past those iconic low stone bridges, then picked up the footpath towards the Cotswold Way. It’s pure magic – lush fields, babbling water, and not a soul in sight. We ambled for a couple of hours, picnicking on cheese rolls from the local bakery, feeling like we’d stepped into a postcard. I even managed a cheeky selfie with a herd of nosy sheep, who photobombed like pros.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. By day two, the heavens opened, turning our planned jaunt to Slaughterbridge into a muddy slog. We layered up in waterproofs and wellies (thank goodness the cottage had space for them), and set off anyway. The paths around here get gloriously squelchy after rain, and we laughed our way through puddles that could swallow a welly whole. It wasn’t the leisurely stroll we’d imagined, but there’s something character-building about battling the elements – we spotted kingfishers darting over the streams and wild garlic perfuming the air, rewards you don’t get on sunny days.

One afternoon, grey skies cleared just in time for a loop from the village back towards our place, taking in the undulating hills. The wind whipped up, but the views were epic – endless green patchwork under dramatic clouds. We cut it short when the rain threatened again, retreating to the open-plan haven for tea and biscuits. That’s when I had a proper moment of reflection, sat by those massive windows with a cuppa: holidays like this remind you how daft it is to let a bit of wet weather scupper plans. It’s the unpredictability that makes Cotswolds walks so alive – one minute cursing the downpour, the next marvelling at rain-freshened vistas.

By the end of our stay, we’d clocked miles of trails in all weathers, from sun-dappled riversides to bracing blustery rambles. No regrets about that tyre fiasco; it just made the whole adventure feel more real. If you’re after a walkers’ paradise with a cosy base, this corner of Gloucestershire’s hard to beat. Can’t wait to go back.