I’ll never forget the drive up to our little holiday spot on the outskirts of Fearnan in Perthshire. We’d piled into the car in Glasgow early doors, full of beans about escaping the city grind, but about halfway there, the sat-nav decided to have a midlife crisis and sent us down a single-track road that was more puddle than path. Mud everywhere – I thought we’d end up pushing the car like some daft episode of Top Gear. A quick reverse and a detour later, we finally spotted the place, hearts racing a bit from the unexpected adventure. As we pulled up, the anticipation melted away; those outstanding views over Loch Tay’s brilliant blue waters hit us like a tonic. What a stunner.

It’s a cracking two-bedroom cottage, perfect for our family of four, with off-road parking that saved us from any more muddy dramas, massive lawned gardens begging for a evening fire pit session, and interiors that felt cosy without trying too hard. Stepping inside, the open-plan living area was a dream – fully kitted-out kitchen for knocking up dinners, and a dining table where we could plot our days over cups of tea. First impressions? Spot on. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of fizz, already buzzing for what lay ahead.

Perthshire’s a walker’s paradise, and we were dead set on making the most of it. Day one dawned bright and breezy, so we headed out for an easy stroll along the Loch Tay shoreline, just a stone’s throw from the cottage. The water sparkled, herons skimmed the surface, and we chatted nonsense as the path wound through birch woods. Felt like we’d stepped into a postcard. By afternoon, we’d pushed on to the Kenmore loop, about four miles away – gentle hills with views that had us stopping every five minutes for photos. Proper refreshing, that.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour, hasn’t it? Next morning, the sky turned that moody Highland grey, and the rain came lashing down like it held a grudge. Our grand plan for scaling Ben Lawers’ lower slopes? Scrapped. Instead, we adapted like pros: wrapped up in waterproofs and tackled a shorter circuit right from the cottage gardens, looping through damp meadows and along pebbly Loch Tay edges. The wind whipped our hoods, but there’s something magical about a wet Scottish hike – the loch misted up, sheep huddled in the fields, and we laughed at ourselves slipping on slick grass. Lunch back at base was steaming soup from the kitchen, feet up by the fire pit (indoors edition).

By day three, the clouds parted for a cracker of a hike up to the Falls of Acharn, a quick jaunt over from Fearnan. Sunshine poured down as we clambered the steps to the hidden gorge – waterfalls thundering, rainbows in the spray. Bliss. That evening, reflecting over dinner, I had one of those moments: staring out at the loch as the sun dipped, I realised how these weather-whipped walks had forced us to slow down. No checklists, just us, the hills, and whatever the sky threw at us. Perthshire doesn’t do predictable, and neither do we anymore. What a week – drenched one minute, dazzled the next. Can’t wait to go back.