I’ll never forget the drive down to Wiltshire last autumn – leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold all along the M4, and me singing along to the radio like a proper numpty until I missed the exit for Malmesbury and ended up looping round a roundabout twice. Classic me, always a bit too eager to get there. But as we finally trundled into the outskirts of this lovely market town, the anticipation built – I could already picture cosying up somewhere with a brew, watching the countryside fade into that perfect dusky light.

Pulling up to the place, my first impressions were spot on. It’s this cracking detached single-storey house with a first-floor annexe, all nestled right on the edge of the Cotswolds Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. The garden looked like a proper autumn dream – enclosed and lush with fallen leaves carpeting the lawn, ideal for our dog who went mental chasing them about. Stepping inside, the quaint pastel sitting room hit me with its peaceful vibe, that massive sofa begging us to flop down after the drive. We lit the fire straight away, the chill in the air making it feel utterly essential.

Autumn shaped every bit of our stay, turning ordinary moments magic. Mornings started with mist rolling over the fields, perfect for wrapping up and heading out for walks along the River Avon – those crunchy leaves underfoot and the hedgerows heavy with berries. We’d wander into Malmesbury, just a short stroll away, grabbing pasties from the bakery and nipping into the pubs where the locals were all chatty about the harvest. One afternoon, we hit the magnificent Malmesbury Abbey, its 12th-century stones glowing in the soft October sun, and I had this quiet moment of reflection standing there, thinking how the season’s mellow light made history feel alive, like time had slowed just for us.

Evenings were the best, though. Back at the house, we’d fire up the kitchen/diner – three ovens came in handy for roasting squash and piling on seasonal veg from the local shops. The folding glass doors opened onto the garden, where the permanent gazebo and that cracking hot tub (worth every penny to rent) let us bubble away under a starry sky, steam rising into the crisp air. I remember one night, slipping into the roll-top bath in the Jack-and-Jill bathroom after a long hike, the warmth chasing away the day’s nip – pure bliss, and a gentle reminder to myself that I need to slow down more often, not just on holiday.

We barely left the garden some days, the dog loving the enclosure while we lounged in the sunroom with its Smart TV flickering away. The annexe was ace for my mate and his wife, giving them a private king-size spot with en-suite, away from our rowdy lot. Days out stayed local – Abbey House Gardens were stunning with their autumn foliage, all fiery reds and oranges, and a potter around Athelstan Museum felt cosy against the gathering gloom. No need to venture far; the season wrapped everything in this golden hush.

It was one of those holidays where autumn didn’t just set the scene – it stole the show, making every laugh, every walk, every soak feel richer. If you’re after that in Wiltshire, you won’t go wrong here.