I finally made it to Carbis Bay after what felt like the world's slowest drive down from Bristol. The satnav decided to have a midlife crisis just past Exeter, rerouting us through some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline. We ended up behind a tractor for a good ten miles, chugging along at snail's pace while I daydreamed about the sea. But honestly, that little mishap just built the anticipation – by the time we crested the hill and spotted the glimmering white sands below, I was grinning like a kid at Christmas.

Pulling up to this gorgeous first-floor apartment, I was bowled over. Panoramic sea views stretching from Godrevy Lighthouse right across to St Ives harbour – it was like the Cornish gods had rolled out the red carpet. Just a gentle stroll down the hill to the beach, it had that perfect mix of cosy and wow-factor, all light and airy with windows that framed the ocean like a living painting.

We'd booked it for a proper do-nothing holiday, and boy, did we nail that. No grand plans, no ticking off landmarks – just sinking into the joy of bugger all. Mornings started lazy in the garden, that lush little patch where you'd flop into a chair with a cuppa, watching the waves crash and the gulls wheel about. I'd crack open a dog-eared paperback – something trashy and escapist – and lose hours while the sun warmed my toes. The other half would potter with a sketchpad, capturing the lighthouse in the distance, but mostly we'd just sit, breathing in that salty air, letting the world slow to a drip.

Afternoons were for ambling down to Carbis Bay beach, toes in the sand, maybe a dip if the water wasn't bracing my soul too much. We'd grab pasties from the little spot near the station – steaming hot, proper job – and eat them on a bench overlooking the harbour, people-watching the surfers and dog-walkers. Back at the flat, it was siesta time: lounging on the balcony as the tide rolled in, a cold beer in hand, that endless vista making any stress from back home feel a million miles away. Evenings blurred into dusk, firing up the barbecue in the garden for sausages and a bit of salad, chatting rubbish until the stars popped out over the sea.

There was this one moment, staring out at Godrevy as the sun dipped low, when it hit me – I've spent so long rushing about, chasing the next thing, that I'd forgotten how good it feels to just be. No emails, no deadlines, just the rhythm of the waves and a full belly. Laughable really, how a week of faffing in a garden chair sorted my head out better than any therapy sesh. We left feeling recharged, promising ourselves more of this slothful bliss. If you're after proper relaxation in St Ives, find a spot like this and let Cornwall work its magic. Pure heaven.