I’ll never forget the drive down to Porthleven – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked it off. We’d piled into the car in the pouring rain somewhere near Redruth, me navigating with a dodgy signal on my phone, and my mate Dave insisting he knew a shortcut. Cue us missing the turning for Camborne and ending up on a narrow lane that felt more like a sheep track. Branches scraped the roof, and I was convinced we’d end up in a hedge. But we laughed it off, emerged onto the open road, and suddenly there it was: the sparkle of the sea in the distance, Porthleven’s harbour nestling cosily against the cliffs. My heart lifted – this was going to be proper.

Pulling up to the place, I had that buzz of anticipation, wondering if it’d live up to the photos. It’s this cracking former farm dairy shed, celebrating the unique whilst being inspired by its traditional roots – the perfect blend of modern living with a rustic twist. Complete with bespoke features and sumptuous furnishings, it’s a luxurious spot that anyone would fall for. There’s even a magical ‘den’ for the little ones and a bubbling hot tub for sinking into under the stars. First impressions? Spot on. It felt like home straight away, all welcoming and tucked away just right for our Cornish escape.

What we loved most, though, was doing sod all. Absolutely nothing. After that faff of a journey, the joy of slowing right down hit like a warm pasty. The garden was the star – wildish and private, with sea glimpses peeking through the hedges. I’d flop into a lounger with a cuppa and a book (some trashy thriller I’d been saving), listening to the gulls and the distant crash of waves on Porthleven Beach. No rush, no plans. Dave would potter about with a crossword, and we’d chat lazily about everything and nowt. One afternoon, I caught myself just staring at the clouds drifting over the harbour, feeling that rare contentment wash over me. When was the last time I properly switched off? Work’s always nagging, innit? This place made me realise how knackered I’d been, and how brilliant it is to just breathe.

Evenings were pure bliss. Fire up the hot tub as the sun dipped, bubbles fizzing around us while the sky turned pink over the rooftops. We’d crack open a bottle of local ale from the Porthleven Brewing Company tap – nothing fancy, just enough to toast another do-nothing day. Supper was simple: pasties from the bakery in the village or a lazy barbecue in the garden, eaten al fresco with the radio murmuring folk tunes. No big walks up the coast path for us; that could wait. Instead, it was reading till my eyes drooped, a gentle doze in the hammock, and waking to birdsong. The kids (visiting for a weekend) vanished into that brilliant den, emerging only for snacks and stories.

Looking back, it was the best sort of holiday – one where you recharge by doing bugger all. Porthleven’s right there if you fancy a gentle amble to the beach or harbour for chips, but mostly we stayed put, savouring the slow rhythm. If you’re after proper relaxation, find yourself a spot like this. I’m already plotting a return.