I’ll never forget the drive down to Trevone last summer – we’d piled into the car in the pouring rain somewhere near Bodmin, full of that giddy holiday buzz, only for me to take a wrong turn and end up in a muddy farm track. Proper daft moment, heart in my mouth as the wheels spun a bit, but we laughed it off, scraped out, and soon enough the satnav had us back on track. By the time we trundled into this quiet corner of the village, the clouds were parting, and there it was: our ground-floor apartment, all welcoming and thoughtfully kitted out, with off-road parking right there and that fresh Cornish sea air hitting you as you stepped out. First impressions? Spot on – beach just a hop away, outdoor shower for rinsing off the sand, and it felt perfect for our little group, easy to move around in, no faffing with stairs.

We couldn’t wait to get stuck into some walks. Day one, the sun was blazing – rare as hen’s teeth round here – so we headed straight for Trevone Bay. That short stroll down from the apartment is a cracker: golden sands stretching out, waves crashing gentle-like, and not a soul in sight early on. We padded along the water’s edge, dipping toes in the surf, feeling like we’d cracked the holiday code. Puffed up the headland path for views over to Harlyn Bay, wind whipping our hair, proper invigorating stuff. Lunch was pasties from the village shop, eaten on a bench overlooking the sea – simple pleasures.

But oh, the British weather, eh? Next morning, it was lashing down, turning our grand plan for the full coastal path to Padstow into a non-starter. We umm’d and ahh’d over tea in the cosy living space, rain drumming on the windows, and I had a proper moment of reflection there: why do I always pack for sun and forget the wellies? Swapped it for a shorter loop around the headlands closer to home – still got those dramatic cliffs and gulls wheeling overhead, but with waterproofs flapping like superheroes. Slipped on the muddy bits a few times, which had us in stitches, sliding about like kids on ice.

By afternoon, the clouds lifted just enough for another go at Trevone’s coves. We timed it with low tide, scrambling over rocks to secret beaches you’d miss if you blinked. The weather kept us on our toes – one minute blue skies, next a squall blowing in from the Atlantic – but that’s the joy of it, isn’t it? Keeps things lively. Evening walks back as the sun dipped low turned everything golden, seals barking from the rocks below.

Our last day, we braved a blustery hike along the cliffs towards Mother Ivey’s Bay, hoods up against the gusts, but rewarded with rainbows arcing over the sea. It was bracing, brilliant, and left me knackered in the best way. Staying put in that spot meant we really soaked up the coast’s moods – no car needed, just lace up and go. Made me think how these simple, weather-whipped rambles beat any fancy itinerary. Can’t wait to go back and chase more of those Cornish paths.