I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon last month – we’d packed the car with enough books and snacks to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck a wobbly just past Taunton. It rerouted us down some narrow lane that felt more like a sheep’s personal runway, and we ended up with a branch scratching the wing mirror like it was auditioning for a horror film. Still, by the time we trundled into that verdant country setting on the fringe of Exmoor, all was forgiven. The anticipation had been building for weeks – visions of hot tub bubbles and zero alarms – and pulling up to this cosy one-bed holiday cottage for couples, I knew we’d struck gold. First impressions? Pure bliss: stylish interiors that whispered ‘relax here’, a glorious garden begging for a lounger, and those incredible views stretching out like a postcard.

From the off, it was all about doing sod all, and I mean that in the best possible way. No grand plans, no hiking boots in sight – just us, surrendering to the rhythm of lazy cottage days. Mornings kicked off with a stagger to the kitchen for tea and toast, then straight out to the garden with a book. I’d plonk myself on a sun-warmed bench, nose in a battered paperback (mine was some daft detective novel I’d nabbed from a charity shop), while the other half fiddled with her phone for five minutes before joining in. The garden’s a proper gem – wildflowers nodding in the breeze, birds cheeping away, and that hot tub lurking invitingly in the corner. We’d bubble away in there mid-afternoon, glasses of local cider in hand (picked up from a farm shop just down the lane), staring at the Exmoor fringe without a care.

One afternoon, I caught myself just gazing at a butterfly flitting about, thinking, ‘Blimey, when did I last switch off like this?’ Work’s been a right treadmill lately, emails pinging like fireworks, and here I was, marvelling at how good it felt to let time slip by. No guilt, no FOMO – just the joy of slowing right down. Evenings were more of the same: supper rustled up from whatever we’d grabbed in Tiverton (cheese ploughman’s, mostly), then curling up inside with the windows flung open to the twilight chorus. We’d chat about nothing much – dreams, daft memories – or read in companionable silence till the stars winked on.

A little light humour came when I tried ‘mindful meditation’ from an app, only to nod off after two minutes, waking with a book on my face. Laughed till my sides hurt. Honestly, it was the perfect antidote to life’s rush. If you’re after peace and privacy, this spot’s your ticket – views from every angle, whether you’re lounging indoors, garden-bound, or tubbed up. We left feeling recharged, already plotting a return. Proper tonic, that was.