I’ll never forget the drive down to the Forest of Dean – me behind the wheel, sat-nav chirping away, and my other half insisting we take the scenic route through those twisty Gloucestershire lanes. Big mistake. About halfway there, we hit a proper downpour, and I managed to splash straight through a massive puddle right in front of a tractor. The farmer gave me a look that could curdle milk, and I spent the next ten miles apologising profusely to thin air. Still, by the time we trundled into the hamlet of Awre, the rain had cleared, and there it was: this characterful countryside retreat hugging the banks of the River Severn. My heart did a little flip – it looked even cosier than the photos, all tucked away in that peaceful spot, promising the kind of holiday where you could just... stop.

We’d been craving a break like this, you know? No packed itineraries, no rushing about. Just us, a bit of family, and the joy of doing sod all. Unpacking took about five minutes – chuck the bags in, crack open a cuppa, and flop into the garden. Blimey, that garden. It’s got these waymarked paths snaking off into the greenery, but who needs them when there’s a perfect hammock swaying gently by the river’s edge? I spent the first afternoon there with a book I’d been meaning to read for months, the kind of lazy read that doesn’t tax the brain. The Severn murmuring past, birds cheeping, and not a soul in sight. Pure bliss.

Newnham’s only three miles up the road, a pretty village with a couple of cracking pubs and a local store for essentials – we nipped over one morning for fresh bread and a pint of milk, but honestly, we didn’t fancy the faff of going further. The Forest of Dean’s trails and woodlands are just five miles off, tempting walkers and cyclists, but me? I was quite happy pottering in the garden, watching the world go by. There’s something about this place that makes you slow right down. No pressure to conquer high ropes or caves – though I did eye up the bike hire at Cannop, ten miles away, and thought, nah, not this trip.

One evening, as the sun dipped low over the river, I caught myself just sitting there, mug in hand, feeling a proper twit for all the times I’ve filled holidays with ‘must-dos’. Why bother? This cottage was made for lingering – lazy breakfasts stretched into brunches, dozing in the sunshine, maybe a gentle stroll along those garden paths if the mood took us. We played cards till late, laughed over nothing, and I swear, I haven’t felt so rested in years. It’s the sort of spot that reminds you holidays aren’t about ticking boxes; they’re about breathing easy. If you’re after that rare gift of time to yourself, Awre’s your haven. We’re already plotting a return.