I’ll never forget the drive down to Weymouth last autumn – golden leaves swirling around the A35 like confetti from a seaside wedding, but with a cheeky twist. About ten miles out, the satnav decided to have a midlife crisis and sent us on a detour through some narrow lanes that made our estate car feel like a juggernaut. We ended up stuck behind a tractor for what felt like hours, laughing hysterically as the kids in the back declared it the “world’s slowest adventure.” Still, by the time we rolled into central Weymouth, the anticipation was buzzing – that crisp October air promising cosy nights in after bracing beach walks.

Pulling up to this stunning three-storey townhouse, my first impressions were spot on. The off-road parking was a godsend (no circling the block like headless chickens), and there it stood, all contemporary charm with its private hot tub winking at us from the enclosed garden. Perfect for families like ours, complete with our excitable Labrador in tow. We tumbled inside, bags everywhere, and it felt like home straight away – well-equipped kitchen for whipping up stews, a dining room for proper chinwags, and that generous sitting room with a Smart TV for movie marathons when the sea mist rolled in.

Autumn in Weymouth shaped everything we did, turning a standard holiday into something properly magical. Days were mild but blustery, ideal for wrapping up in scarves and strolling to the Esplanade, where the sea was a moody grey-green, waves crashing like they were auditioning for a dramatic soundtrack. We’d grab fish and chips from one of the pubs on the doorstep – proper crispy batter, eaten on the beach as the sun dipped low, painting Nothe Fort in fiery oranges. The kids loved the games room battles on the Xbox and football table, fuelling their energy before we headed out to Weymouth Harbour. One afternoon, with leaves crunching underfoot, we wandered to the SEA LIFE centre, watching sharks glide past in the dim light – a thrilling contrast to the bright summer crowds, making it feel like our own private underwater world.

Evenings were the real treat, thanks to that seasonal nip in the air. After letting the dog romp in the garden, we’d fire up the barbie (brisk but doable under the shelter) and then sink into the steaming hot tub, mulled cider in hand, watching stars pop out over the Jurassic Coast. Upstairs, the six bedrooms – a king, three doubles, two twins – were havens of fluffy duvets and welcoming vibes, with bathrooms galore so no one was queuing in the chill. One night, as rain pattered gently, we hunkered in the sitting room, reflecting on how the quieter autumn pace let us properly unwind. I caught myself thinking, “Blimey, we’re always rushing about – this is what holidays are meant to be.”

We nipped to Greenhill Gardens for playground fun amid the falling leaves, and a short hop to Radipole Lake for birdwatching, spotting kingfishers darting through the reeds – pure Dorset poetry. No massive queues, just us and the mellow magic of the season. Weymouth in autumn? It’s like the town sighs with relief post-summer, inviting you to linger. We left buzzing for a return, hearts full and cheeks rosy from the wind. What a cracking stay.