I’ll never forget the drive up to Dunfermline in Fife – a proper Scottish jaunt that started with me taking a wrong turn just past the Forth Road Bridge, thanks to my rubbish sense of direction and a sat-nav that decided to have a mid-journey sulk. Instead of a straight shot, we ended up looping through some back lanes near Rosyth, laughing our socks off as the rain pelted the windscreen. But honestly, that little mishap built the anticipation – by the time we pulled up, I was buzzing to see what this historic town had in store.

First impressions? Blimey, they hit like a warm hug. Nestled right in the Heritage Quarter next to Dunfermline Abbey, the place was this cracking stylish apartment, all open-plan living with plush seating and a telly perfectly placed for kicking back. It felt like instant home comforts after the drive – chic but dead practical, perfect for us two on a romantic getaway.

We didn’t faff about with the obvious tourist traps; nah, we proper got lost on purpose, stumbling on Fife’s hidden gems by accident. First wander out, we veered off the main drag down a narrow wynd behind the abbey – one of those twisty old paths you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention. It spat us out at a tucked-away community garden, all wildflowers and buzzing bees, with a bench overlooking the abbey ruins at a wonky angle no guidebook mentions. We picnicked there with cheese from the local deli, feeling like we’d nicked a secret from the town.

Next day, aiming for a quick coffee, we took a daft shortcut through Pittencrieff Park’s lesser-trodden edges – you know, past the glen where the paths fork into oblivion. Got properly disoriented among the ancient trees, but emerged at this brilliant forgotten viewpoint: a grassy knoll with a panoramic sweep of the glen and the abbey tower poking up like a cheeky sentinel. No crowds, just us and a cheeky robin eyeing our crisps. It was magic, that sense of discovery – like the town was whispering its best bits only to wanderers.

Evenings, we’d potter back to the apartment, knackered but chuffed, flopping on the sofa with a cheeky GandT. One night, getting “lost” again led us to a wee hidden close off High Street – turned out to be home to an artisan baker who does the flakiest empire biscuits you’ve ever tasted, fresh from the oven at dusk. Pure serendipity.

Looking back, I reckon that’s the joy of these spots: they sneak up on you when you let go of the map. Me, I’m usually a planner to a fault – spreadsheets for holidays, the lot – but Fife taught me to embrace the meander. Dunfermline’s got this under-the-radar charm, all wynds and wild corners, that makes you feel like an explorer in your own backyard. If you’re after a break that’s equal parts romance and adventure, get yourself lost here. You won’t regret it.