I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives that Friday afternoon – sat nav insisting we take the scenic route along the A30, only for us to hit a proper Cornish traffic snarl-up just past Hayle. Some cheeky diversion meant we crawled along for what felt like hours, me drumming my fingers on the steering wheel while my other half dozed off with a bag of pasties. But honestly, that little mishap just built the anticipation; by the time we crested the hill into Carbis Bay, the sun dipping low over the sea, I was grinning like a kid at Christmas.

Pulling up to the luxury ground floor seafront apartment in those swish Barepta Cove Apartments, my first impressions were spot on. Tucked right on the edge with direct access to the South West Coastal Path and just a gentle wander to the beach, it screamed relaxation. Floor-to-ceiling windows in the open-plan living area and master bedroom framed these jaw-dropping panoramic views from St Ives round to Godrevy Lighthouse – the kind that make you forget the world exists. The owners have themed it beautifully with nods to their travels, all stylish and inviting without being fussy. Perfect for us two, really – no need for anything grander.

From that moment, it was all about doing sod all, and I mean that in the best possible way. We’d flop onto the plush sofa with a cuppa, feet up, watching the waves roll in and gulls wheel about. Mornings blurred into lazy afternoons in the garden terrace – that private outdoor spot felt like our own little Eden, surrounded by sea air and the distant crash of surf. I’d crack open a book (finally got through that pile I’d been promising myself), while she sketched or just stared out, mesmerised. Lunch? A simple picnic of local cheese, crackers and a bottle of white from the nearby shop, eaten right there as the tide turned.

One day – well, they all merged into one blissful haze – I wandered the coastal path for all of five minutes before plonking down on a bench with a thermos. The path’s right there, begging for a stroll to the beach, but why rush? Back at the flat, we’d potter about the kitchen, knocking up easy suppers like fresh mackerel from the St Ives harbour stalls, eaten at the table with those views lighting up the room. Evenings were for board games by lamplight, a cheeky GandT in hand, laughing over nothing much.

Looking back, it was a gentle nudge to slow down – me, always rushing about back home, suddenly content with the rhythm of the sea. No grand adventures, no ticking off lists; just the joy of being. That’s the magic of a spot like this – it wraps you in calm, and you emerge a bit more human. If you fancy switching off proper, you won’t regret it.