I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives last autumn – the leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold along the A30, but sod’s law, we hit a massive tailback just past Hayle thanks to a rogue sheep blocking the road. Half an hour of honking and chuckling with the kids in the back, munching crisps to keep the peace, and I was proper fuming at first. But as we crested the hill into Carbis Bay, hearts lifted – there it was, our holiday house perched high up, with those sweeping views over Porthkidney Beach and the estuary glittering in the weak October sun. First impressions? Blimey, it was even better than the photos – a smart, detached four-bedder that screamed cosy family escape, driveway begging for our cluttered boot full of wellies and bags.

Stepping inside felt like a warm hug after the chill wind off the sea. The place was spot on for us lot – spacious sitting room with an open fire already begging for logs (we cracked that open on night one), massive windows framing the beach and Godrevy lighthouse peeking through the hazy light. Kitchen was a dream for autumn feasts – I whipped up spatchcock chicken and roasted roots while the kids raided the breakfast bar. That rear garden? Massive, with a hot tub steaming invitingly under the overcast sky, perfect for bubbling away the day’s damp.

Autumn shaped every bit of it, didn’t it? No summer crowds trampling the sands, just us and a handful of dog-walkers on the seven-mile stretch below. We’d bundle up in coats and scarves for morning strolls along Carbis Bay, kicking through crunchy leaves mixed with sea-drift, the air crisp and salty, alive with that briny tang you only get when the tourists thin out. One afternoon, we caught low tide at Porthkidney – proper explorer vibes, paddling in rock pools teeming with crabs, the estuary a mirror of fiery sunset skies. Kids went feral in the playroom downstairs – that huge tent fort, toy kitchen, and diggers galore kept them happy for hours while rain pattered the windows. I nicked a puzzle from the adult library shelf, hunkered by the fire with a mug of tea, feeling all smug about dodging half-term chaos elsewhere.

Evenings were pure magic in that seasonal glow. We’d dine in the separate room, reliving beach finds over pasties from St Ives (picked up fresh, steaming in the autumn chill), then hot tub under stars, lighthouse beam sweeping like a friendly ghost. Bedrooms were lush – we bagged the super-king with throws that swallowed you whole, linens crisp against the cool nights. Twins for the little ones, kitted with toys that sparked non-stop imagination.

Looking back, that nip in the air made it – forced us slow, savour the quiet drama of turning tides and shorter days. No rushing about; just proper family time, building memories in the mellow light. Wish I’d packed more layers, mind you – classic me, ever the optimist. If you’re chasing that autumnal Cornwall bliss, this corner of St Ives is gold. Can’t wait to go back.