I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives – or rather, the near-disaster just outside Penzance. We’d been buzzing with anticipation, windows down, singing along to some terrible 90s playlist, dreaming of pasties and that first salty sea breeze. Then, bam – a rogue seagull dive-bombed the windscreen, leaving us splattered and laughing hysterically as I pulled over to clean it up. “Welcome to Cornwall,” my partner quipped, and honestly, it set the perfect tone: a bit chaotic, but full of promise.

By the time we trundled into Carbis Bay, the sun was dipping low, painting the cliffs in that golden light you only get down here. Perched high on the cliffs overlooking one of Cornwall’s most beautiful bays, this luxury first-floor apartment was like stumbling on a hidden gem. With stunning sea views from the sitting area and master bedroom, it slept us four comfortably in two cosy bedrooms – ideal for our little family escape. We dumped the bags and made straight for those windows, binoculars in hand, scanning the bay towards St Ives. Seals! We reckoned we spotted a couple bobbing about, and it felt like the holiday had already peaked.

But the real joy? Doing sod all. After years of frantic city weekends, this was our chance to switch off completely. Mornings started lazy in the sitting area, mugs of tea in hand, gazing out at the waves crashing below. No rush to tick off Tate St Ives or Porthmeor Beach – though they’re a quick stroll or train hop away if you fancy. Instead, we’d flop into the garden, that perfect little suntrap with its sea-framed outlook, and crack open books we’d been meaning to read forever. I devoured a battered copy of Winnie-the-Pooh (don’t judge – pure nostalgia), while the kids built pebble towers and my other half nodded off under a towel.

Afternoons blurred into siestas: lounging with coffee, watching fishing boats chug out from the harbour, or just listening to the gulls. One day, we wandered the coastal path to the beach below – all shingle and sparkles – for a dip that was bracing enough to wake the dead, then back for pasties from the local shop. Evenings? Sunset from the balcony, a simple supper, and early nights with the sound of surf lulling us. No screens, no schedules – just the rhythm of the tide.

Looking back, I had a quiet moment one evening, feet up, binoculars idle. Life’s been non-stop lately – work, school runs, the lot. Here, time stretched out, and I realised how much I’d missed this slowness. No grand adventures needed; the views, the garden hush, the simple act of being did all the magic. If you’re after a proper unwind on the Cornish coast, find a spot like this. You’ll leave feeling human again.