I’ll never forget the drive down to Durrus in County Cork – we’d packed the car to the gills with posh cheeses and a bottle of decent red, dreaming of lazy evenings by the fire, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a sudden downpour just outside Bantry. Sheets of rain hammered the windscreen, and I ended up pulling over in a layby, convinced we’d end up floating off to Sheep’s Head like a pair of soggy drifters. But honestly, that little drama only ramped up the anticipation – by the time we splashed our way into the off-road parking at this cracking three-bedroom spot, we were buzzing to get inside and dry off.

First impressions? Spot on. It’s a proper cosy home-from-home, right on the edge of the village with rural views that make you forget the world’s woes. We dumped our dripping coats in the utility room (lifesaver after that drive), then wandered into the spacious kitchen, grinning like kids at the array of gadgets – everything you’d need for a self-catered bash. The garden out back sealed it, with the gentle burble of the nearby river filtering through the wisteria and shrubs. Perfect for six of us, plus the dog, who immediately claimed a sun patch.

Food became our religion from the off. First morning, we ambled down to the local hub – it’s an easy walk – and stocked up at the village shop on fresh soda bread, buttery croissants, and rashers that smelled like heaven frying up. Back at the house, I fancied myself a chef, attempting a full Irish breakfast in that gleaming kitchen. Sausages sizzling, eggs poaching just so… until I overdid the black pudding and it turned into a brick. We laughed it off with mugs of strong tea, the dog eyeing the scraps hopefully.

Evenings were pub heaven. Durrus has a couple of gems within spitting distance – we hit one that first night for creamy fish chowder so thick you could stand a spoon in it, paired with a pint of Murphy’s. The locals were dead friendly, swapping yarns about the best spots for crab claws. Next day, we wandered to another for shepherd’s pie that melted in your mouth, all washed down with craft stout from a nearby microbrewery. I even tried my hand at seafood linguine back home one night, hurling prawns and garlic into a pan – came out garlicky brilliant, if I say so myself, eaten alfresco as the sun dipped behind the hills.

Midway through, over a messy attempt at soda bread (mine was more scone than loaf – note to self: kneading’s an art), I had a quiet moment reflecting on it all. Holidays like this, faffing about with markets and pots, remind you life’s too short for rushed takeaways. We nipped to Bantry Market too – a short hop – for artisan cheeses, smoked mackerel, and rhubarb jam that jazzed up our breakfasts no end. Pints at the pub after, dissecting my baking disasters, felt like pure bliss.

By the end, bellies full and hearts content, we’d nailed the art of the slow food escape. If you’re after a base for pub crawls, market hauls, and kitchen capers with a river soundtrack, this corner of Cork’s your spot. We’re already plotting a return – next time, I’m mastering that black pudding.