I’ll never forget the drive down to Teignmouth last autumn – the leaves were turning that gorgeous coppery gold, carpeting the lanes like nature’s own confetti, but of course, I managed to hit a massive puddle just outside Exeter. Splattered my windscreen with mud and had me pulling over for a frantic wipe-down with a soggy tissue. Typical me, turning a scenic A38 crawl into a minor disaster, but by the time I crested the hill into town, the sun was dipping low over the sea, painting everything in that crisp, amber light you only get in October. Heart racing a bit from the anticipation – would the place live up to the photos? – I parked up and climbed the stairs to this stylish two-bedroom luxury coastal apartment on the first floor of a beautiful Grade II listed Georgian building, perfectly positioned above Teignmouth beach with stunning sea views. Blimey, it exceeded expectations right away: cosy tartan throws on the sofas, a telly bigger than my lounge at home, and that floor-to-ceiling window framing the waves like a living painting. First impressions? Spot on.

Autumn in Devon is pure magic for a seaside jaunt like this, isn’t it? No summer crowds clogging the promenade, just that fresh, bracing chill that makes you feel alive. I’d timed it for mid-October, when the tourists thin out but the sea’s still got that wild energy. Woke up the first morning to gulls squawking and the tide whooshing in below – grabbed a coffee from the kitchen’s fancy machine and just sat there, mesmerised by the swells rolling under a sky streaked with scudding clouds. It was the kind of view that makes you forget the nine-to-five grind back home.

We wandered down to the beach that first afternoon, scarves flapping in the gusts, kicking through piles of seaweed and those perfect, spirally shells the kids love. Teignmouth’s pier was a short stroll away, all lit up against the early dusk – nipped in for fish and chips wrapped in paper, the vinegar tang cutting through the salty air. Sat on a bench watching the fishing boats bob, steam rising from the batter as the sun set in a fiery blaze. No queues, no fuss; autumn turns it into your own private postcard. The next day, we ambled along the coastal path towards Shaldon, the bracken turning rusty on the cliffs, stopping for cream teas at a little café overlooking the estuary. Proper job – sconces still warm, clotted cream mountains high, and that seasonal glow making it taste even better.

Evenings were blissfully hygge in the apartment. With the nights drawing in early, we’d light the fire (or rather, the efficient electric one that felt just as cheery), crack open a bottle of red, and play board games while rain pattered the windows. One night, a proper gale whipped up, waves crashing like thunder – thrilling from the warmth indoors, but it had me reflecting a tad. Sat there nursing my wine, thinking how these shorter days force you to slow down, appreciate the simple stuff. Work’s been manic lately; this trip was my reset button, reminding me life’s too short not to chase these golden moments.

Pootled to nearby Labrador Bay for a blustery walk midweek – seals barking on the rocks, fungi popping up in the woods like hidden treasures. The season shaped every bit: cooler swims for the brave (not me), apple-picking vibes at local orchards, and that mellow light perfect for snaps. Left feeling utterly refreshed, already plotting a return next leaf-fall. Devon in autumn? It’s the sweet spot.