I’ll never forget the drive down to Herefordshire last month – me at the wheel, sat-nav on, full of beans about our family getaway. We’d left the M50 early to beat the traffic, but about halfway there, disaster struck: a wrong turn onto some narrow B-road near Bromyard, and suddenly we’re ploughing through a flock of sheep that’d decided the tarmac was prime grazing. The farmer gave us a cheery wave as we inched past, heart in my mouth, but it was all part of the charm, wasn’t it? That little mishap turned what could’ve been a straight slog into the perfect teaser for the adventure ahead.

By the time we rolled up to this cracking four-bedroom farmhouse tucked away in the Risbury countryside, just outside Leominster, I was buzzing with anticipation. We parked up on the generous drive, ducked under the timber porch, and stepped inside to this absolute gem of a sitting room – three squashy sofas, a Smart TV for the kids, and massive windows framing the rolling fields like a painting. It screamed cosy nights in, especially with that woodburning stove ready to roar. First impressions? Spot on. It felt like the ideal bolthole for a big group like ours, all seclusion and walking trails on the doorstep.

But honestly, the real magic happened when we ditched the maps and let curiosity lead. Herefordshire’s got this knack for hidden gems if you’re daft enough to get lost – and we were pros at that. First afternoon, a spontaneous wander from the garden took us down a barely-there footpath behind the property. No signs, just us stumbling upon a wildflower meadow that opened onto a quiet stretch of the River Lugg. We picnicked there by accident, feet dangling in the water, spotting kingfishers dart off – proper off-the-beaten-track bliss you’d never find on TripAdvisor.

Next day, trying to loop back to the village, we veered off onto what looked like a farm track (it was). Ended up at this tiny, forgotten orchard – gnarly old apple trees heavy with fruit, the kind that taste like they’ve been sun-ripened by magic. We picked a few (with permission from the lone chap tending bees nearby), and it was one of those moments that makes you reflect: when did we last just stumble into something so simple and perfect? Back at the house, we baked a crumble that night, laughing about our “expedition.”

Even a rainy morning didn’t dampen spirits. We struck out from Risbury towards Ivington, but a dodgy shortcut led to a secluded woodland glade with a bubbling brook – ideal for stone-skipping and daisy chains. No crowds, no cafes, just the rustle of leaves and that fresh countryside whiff. It’s funny how getting lost sharpened everything: the air tasted sweeter, the views hit harder. By week’s end, we’d uncovered more secret spots than planned walks – a hidden dew pond alive with dragonflies, a knoll with panoramic vistas over patchwork fields.

This trip was a reminder to embrace the detours. In a world of pinned locations, there’s joy in the unplanned, especially from a spot like this farmhouse haven. If you’re after proper escapism, get yourself lost in Herefordshire – you won’t regret it.