I’ll never forget the drive down to Wiltshire last month – sat nav had me convinced I was nearly there, then it chucked me off onto some winding lane that looked like it hadn’t seen tarmac since the war. Turned out I’d missed a turn near Old Sarum, and there I was, faffing about with a map on my phone while the kids in the back started their “are we there yet?” chorus. A classic dad moment, but honestly, it just built the anticipation. By the time I finally spotted the village sign for Coombe Bissett, I was buzzing to arrive.

Pulling up, my first impressions were spot on – this place is a proper gem, tucked away in its own private nook on the edge of this sleepy little village. It’s one of those self-contained apartments in a larger house, done up in a sleek, modern style that makes you feel instantly at home. The owner’s popped little touches everywhere – fresh flowers on the table, a welcome basket with local biscuits and a bottle of wine – proper thoughtful stuff that says “kick back and enjoy”. Upstairs is their bit, totally separate, so you’ve got all the privacy in the world.

From the off, I knew this holiday was all about doing bugger all, and I wasn’t wrong. No grand plans, no ticking off landmarks – just proper slowing down. First morning, I wandered out to the garden with a cuppa, and blimey, it’s like stepping into your own little Eden. Secluded, peaceful, with this lush setup of comfy outdoor furniture and subtle lighting that turns it magical come evening. Sat there reading a battered paperback I’d brought along – some daft crime novel – and watched the birds flit about. Didn’t even notice the hours slipping by.

Lazy days blurred into one another. Breakfast in the sun (proper fry-up courtesy of the well-stocked kitchen), then flop into a lounger with the paper or a podcast about nothing much. The garden became our HQ – kids pottered about picking daisies or building twig forts, while I pretended to nap but mostly just dozed off for real. One afternoon, I treated myself to a slow amble up to the village shop, no more than a five-minute wander, for a pasty and a pint of milk. Chatted with the chap behind the counter about the weather (as you do), and that was my big outing. Back for lunch alfresco, more reading, maybe a gentle doze under the trees.

There’s something dead satisfying about it all, isn’t there? In the rush of normal life, you forget how good it feels to switch off. I caught myself one evening, gin in hand, gazing at the sunset painting the garden gold, thinking: “This is it, this is living.” No FOMO, no scrolling – just the joy of very little. The apartment’s luxury wrapped it all up perfectly: plush sofas for evening telly, that serene vibe seeping in from outside. We left feeling recharged, already plotting a return. If you fancy proper unwinding in Wiltshire’s quiet corners, this is your spot. Pure bliss.