I’ll never forget the drive down to Somerset – sat nav insisting we take some winding B-road that turned into a proper country lane, complete with a cheeky cow blocking the way just as we were getting peckish. We’d left Bristol in high spirits, but that little standoff had us laughing and honking gently until the beast ambled off. By the time we crested the hill near Easton, the anticipation was bubbling – visions of cosy nooks and endless views to melt away the week’s stresses.

Pulling up to this first-floor apartment tucked in a rural spot near Wookey, we were gobsmacked. Private parking right there, then a short climb up external steps to this elevated gem, wrapped in countryside on all sides. Stepping inside, it was love at first sight: an open-plan space done up so stylishly, with everything you need for a self-catered jaunt. Perfect for two of us and our scruffy terrier, Pip, who immediately claimed a sunny corner.

From that moment, it was all about doing sod all – and I mean that in the best possible way. No grand plans, no ticking off lists. Just lazy days unfolding at their own pace. Mornings started with a brew on the go, pottering out to the garden area below, where we’d flop into loungers with books and mugs. The views over the fields towards the Mendip Hills were mesmerising – rolling green as far as you could see, with birdsong and the odd tractor chugging by. Pip would chase shadows while we sipped and stared, letting time stretch out like warm toffee.

Afternoons? More of the same, gloriously. I’d crack open a paperback – some daft crime thriller I’d been saving – and lose hours under a blanket on the sofa, only stirring for a lazy lunch of cheese on toast or whatever we rustled up from the well-stocked kitchen. Wells is just a quick hop away if you fancy a mooch for pasties or a potter round the market, but mostly we didn’t bother. Wookey Hole’s caves are less than a mile off, tempting for a half-hour wander, but even that felt optional. Instead, we’d fire up the hob for a simple supper, plates balanced on knees as the sun dipped low, painting everything golden.

There was this one evening, glass of Somerset cider in hand, watching Pip snore in a sunbeam, when it hit me: I’m rubbish at switching off back home. Emails ping, to-dos nag. Here, though, it was effortless. No pressure, just the joy of being. A gentle nudge to myself – maybe pack less ambition next time, eh?

By the end of our stay, we’d done precisely nowt by most folks’ standards, and it was pure bliss. If you’re after a haven to slow right down, this is it – countryside whispers and all. Can’t wait to go back.