I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon – sat nav insisting we take some winding back road through the moors, only for us to end up behind a tractor doing about 10 miles an hour. Proper comedy gold, that was, with my other half tutting and me pretending I wasn’t secretly loving the excuse for a slower pace. We’d been buzzing with anticipation the whole way from Bristol, dreaming of ditching the daily grind for a proper holiday hideaway. By the time we trundled into that tucked-away hamlet of holiday cottages and lodges near Bovey Tracey, we were ready to flop.

First impressions? Blimey, it was love at first sight. This cosy spot for up to four of us felt like it’d been plucked straight from a storybook – all peaceful and welcoming, the sort of place that whispers ‘relax, will you?’ right from the off. We dumped the bags and just stood there, grinning like idiots at the tranquil vibe. No traffic hum, no neighbourly chit-chat, just birdsong and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. Perfect base for doing precisely nowt, which was exactly the plan.

The joy of it all was in the slobbing about. Mornings kicked off with a lazy brekkie on the patio, tea in hand, watching the world wake up without us having to join in. The garden was an absolute dream – wildflower patches buzzing with bees, a hammock slung between trees begging to be tested, and those comfy benches for perching with a book. I devoured half a detective novel that first afternoon, feet up, only pausing to brew another cuppa. Who needs an itinerary when you’ve got this?

We did venture out a smidge, mind – a gentle potter along the nearby lanes to the edge of Dartmoor, just enough to stretch the legs and breathe in that crisp air. Bovey Tracey’s got a cracking little bakery round the corner, so fresh pasties and scones became our daily pilgrimage. But honestly, the real magic was in the slowing down. Evenings melted into barbecues in the garden, fairy lights twinkling as the sun dipped low, chatting rubbish or just sitting in companionable silence. One night, I caught myself staring at the stars, thinking how daft it is that we pack our lives so full back home. Why rush when this kind of peace is on offer?

There was this gentle moment of self-reflection on day three, sprawled in the hammock with a cider. I realised I’d been scrolling less, smiling more – proper reset for the soul. No grand adventures needed; sometimes the best holiday is the one where you achieve bugger all and feel brilliant for it. We left feeling recharged, already plotting a return. If you’re after a slice of Devon tranquility, find yourself a spot like this and let the world spin on without you. Pure bliss.