I’ll never forget the drive down to Weymouth last autumn – leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold all along the A35, but wouldn’t you know it, we hit a proper downpour just past Dorchester. The windscreen wipers were going mental, and I nearly missed the turn for our parking spot, splashing through a massive puddle that soaked the hubcaps. Still, as we pulled up to this stylish first-floor apartment right in the heart of the town, hearts lifted. Those sea glimpses from the window had us buzzing with anticipation – golden hour light filtering through, promising crisp coastal walks ahead.

Stepping inside felt like a warm hug after the drizzle. The open-plan living space was spot on: sleek kitchen for knocking up soups with seasonal squash from the local market, a dining table for four (perfect for our little family), and plush seating by the Smart TV for cosy evenings in. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of red, peering out at the bay as the sun dipped low, painting everything in that magical October amber. First impressions? Bloody brilliant – or rather, brilliantly inviting.

Autumn in Weymouth shaped every moment of our stay. Mornings started with misty beach rambles along the seafront, the air sharp and invigorating, crunching over pebbles scattered with seaweed from recent storms. No summer crowds, just us and a few dog-walkers, the waves crashing with that extra ferocity you only get in the cooler months. We wandered to Castle Cove, where the cliffs glowed rusty red against slate-grey skies – proper dramatic, like a Turner painting come to life. One afternoon, we nipped into Weymouth Museum, huddled over hot chocolates, soaking up tales of smuggling and shipwrecks while rain pattered the windows. It had me reflecting on how we rush through summers, barely noticing the details, but autumn slows you right down, makes you appreciate the quiet poetry of a damp harbour.

Lunches were easy self-catered affairs – pasties from the shops on the doorstep, paired with foraged blackberries we’d picked en route to Nothe Fort. Climbing those elevated paths up top, wind whipping our scarves, we spotted seals bobbing in the choppy harbour below. Bliss. Evenings, we’d brave RSPB Radipole Lake for birdwatching, binoculars fogging up as kingfishers darted through the reeds, their colours popping against the turning foliage. The season’s mellow light made it all feel intimate, like the landscape was whispering secrets.

A highlight was Chesil Beach on a blustery day – those shingle banks stretching out, waves hurling foam skyward. We didn’t linger long in the chill, but it was exhilarating, cheeks rosy from the gale. Back at the flat, twin beds for the kids (double for us), we’d thaw out in the bath with shower over, planning the next jaunt over steaming mugs of tea. Weymouth in autumn isn’t about sunbathing; it’s fireside chats, hearty stews, and that gentle pull to reflect – realising how a short break in the off-season recharges you more than you’d think.

We left feeling utterly content, already plotting a return when the leaves are at their peak. If you’re after a contemporary base for four with parking and proximity to it all, this spot’s a gem – especially when Dorset dons its autumn finery.