I’ll never forget the drive up to Edinburgh from the south – rain lashing the windscreen like it had a personal grudge, and then, just past the border, my sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us looping around some nameless roundabout three times. Typical me, I thought, always one wrong turn away from a full-blown adventure. But as we finally rolled into Leith, the clouds parted just enough to reveal the docks glittering under the weak Scottish sun, and my heart lifted. There it was, our home for the week: a smart second-floor apartment in a sleek modern block, all light and airy inside with that fresh, welcoming vibe that screams ‘kick off your shoes and stay a while’.

From the moment we stepped through the door, bags dumped in the hall, I knew this was going to be the holiday of doing precisely nothing – and I mean nothing, in the best possible way. No grand itineraries, no ticking off castles or hikes up Arthur’s Seat. Just us, slowing right down. The views from the living room windows were pure magic: across the docklands to the Firth of Forth, ships bobbing lazily, the water catching the light like it was showing off. I’d plonk myself on the sofa with a cuppa, feet up, watching the world drift by. Bliss.

Mornings were for faffing about in the kitchen – nothing fancy, just toast and marmalade from the corner shop, strong coffee brewing while I flicked through a dog-eared paperback I’d brought along. The apartment’s got this charming, bright interior that makes even rainy days feel cosy; every room spotless and inviting, like it was waiting just for us. I’d wander out to the communal garden area downstairs – nothing massive, but a lovely little green space with benches and flowerbeds that felt like our private secret. I’d settle there with my book, maybe a biscuit or two, listening to the gulls squawking over the water. Hours would slip by without me noticing. Who needs a gym when you’ve got that kind of peace?

Afternoons? More of the same, honestly. A gentle stroll – and I mean gentle, none of that power-walking nonsense – to Ocean Terminal, just a few minutes away. We’d grab a coffee from one of the bars overlooking the Royal Yacht Britannia, all moored there like a sleeping giant, then wander back without buying a thing. Leith Shore’s trendy wine bars and cafes were tempting, but mostly we resisted, heading back to flop on the sofa instead. One evening, I even treated myself to a swim at the leisure centre nearby – pure indulgence, floating about like a contented jellyfish. Back home, dinner was simple: fish and chips from a spot down the road, eaten picnic-style by the window with the Forth twinkling outside.

Looking back, that little mishap on the drive was the perfect start – a reminder to laugh off the chaos and embrace the slow. In a city buzzing with history and energy, we found joy in the quiet corners of Leith. No FOMO, no rush. Just reading, gazing at the views, and letting time stretch out. I came home feeling properly recharged, wondering why I don’t do this ‘doing nothing’ lark more often. If you’re after a holiday that’s all about unwinding, this is the spot.