I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday house in County Kerry – a proper faff from the moment we left the main road near Glenbeigh. Sat nav decided to have a midlife crisis, sending us down a narrow lane that turned into little more than a sheep track. There we were, me white-knuckling the wheel, kids in the back chanting “Are we there yet?” while the other half tried not to spill her coffee. After a tense 20 minutes of reversing round blind corners (cheers to the farmer who waved us through with a grin), we finally spotted the place perched in Kealduff Lower. Heart lifted instantly – those rolling hills and distant mountains peeking through the mist like a promise of pure bliss.

Pulling up, my first impressions were spot on: this three-bedroom detached house looked every bit the cosy retreat we’d been dreaming of. Tucked away with smashing views over the countryside and just a quick hop to the coast, it screamed “slow down and stay put”. We tumbled inside to that brilliant open-plan living space – kitchen gleaming with all the gadgets (dishwasher and washing machine earning hero status from the off), dining table big enough for our lot of seven, and sofas begging for a collapse.

But honestly, the joy was in doing sod all. After the drive’s drama, we vowed to embrace the lazy cottage life, and boy, did we deliver. Mornings kicked off with brews on the go, then straight to the garden – a proper suntrap with views that made you forget the world. I’d flop into a lounger with a dog-eared paperback (finished three that week, a personal best), while the kids pottered about picking daisies or chasing butterflies. No schedules, no screens – just the hum of bees and that fresh Kerry air working its magic.

Lunches were thrown together from local bits nabbed from Glenbeigh’s shops – cheese, bread, and whatever caught the eye – eaten al fresco as the sun climbed. Afternoons blurred into siestas: other half nodding off with a magazine, me staring at clouds morphing into dragons, pondering how I’d let life back home rush me into a frenzy. Gentle self-reflection hit one evening, glass of wine in hand, watching the sunset paint the hills gold. “Why don’t we do this more?” I muttered. She just smiled – point taken.

Evenings were pure indulgence: firing up the hob for simple suppers (that kitchen made it effortless), then piling onto the sofas for board games or yarns about nothing. No big hikes or tourist traps – though Rossbeigh Beach was tempting, a mile away, we saved it for one lazy stroll. Mostly, it was this: slowing right down, breathing deep, letting the peace of the place seep in. Kerry’s wild beauty right there from the window, no effort required.

Leaving felt wrong, like cutting a holiday short. But those days of blissful inertia? They’ve reset my batteries. If you fancy recharging without the schlep, this corner of Kerry’s your spot. Pure heaven.