I’ll never forget the drive down to Weymouth last autumn – the leaves were just starting to turn that gorgeous coppery gold along the A354, and I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation, windows down, singing along to some cheesy 90s tunes. That was until we hit a massive puddle just outside Dorchester, courtesy of one of those sudden Dorset downpours that turn the roads into rivers. Splash! My mate Dave in the passenger seat got absolutely drenched from a passing lorry, and we ended up laughing like idiots while pulling over to towel him off. Typical British getaway start, innit?

By the time we rolled into town, the sun was peeking out again, casting this magical glow over the harbour. We’d booked a luxury second-floor apartment right overlooking the water – perfect for four of us, with a cracking balcony where the boats bobbed about like they were putting on a show just for us. First impressions? Blimey, it was spot on. Central as anything, so no faffing about with parking or long walks, and that bright, airy living-dining room with the big sliding doors straight onto the balcony had us grinning ear to ear. Underfloor heating was a godsend too, taking the chill off those crisp October evenings.

Autumn in Weymouth shaped the whole trip in the best way. Days were mild enough for bracing walks along the esplanade, kicking through piles of fallen leaves with the sea breeze whipping up a bit of colour in our cheeks. We’d wander down to the beach at Greenhill, where the waves crashed a tad wilder than summer, but the sands were peaceful, dotted with dog-walkers and folks flying kites in the gusts. No massive crowds – just us, the gulls, and that fresh, salty air that makes you feel alive. One afternoon, we hired bikes and cycled the short loop to Preston Beach, the low sun turning the water all sparkly orange. Stopped for fish and chips wrapped in paper, eaten on a bench while watching the tide roll in – proper seasonal bliss, with that hint of woodsmoke from beach huts firing up barbecues.

Evenings were pure cosiness, thanks to the time of year. We’d crack open a bottle of red on the balcony as the sun dipped behind the horizon, painting the harbour in those fiery autumn hues. Inside, sprawled on the two comfy sofas, we streamed a daft horror flick on the Smart TV – perfect for the darkening nights – or tucked into dinners at the sleek glass table, rustling up pasta with local crab from the harbour fishmonger. The underfloor heating meant no shivery toes, just that warm glow while we chatted about nothing and everything.

Looking back, it got me reflecting on how we rush about life sometimes, glued to screens indoors. That week, with autumn’s shorter days nudging us outside then drawing us back to that harbour view, it was a gentle reminder to slow down and savour the simple stuff – like the rustle of leaves or a sunset over bobbing boats. Weymouth in autumn? Absolute cracker. We’re already plotting a return.