I’ll never forget the drive up to Perthshire – we’d packed the car with enough snacks to feed a small army, but about 20 miles from Fearnan, the satnav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us down a single-track road that looked more like a sheep’s personal runway. There we were, me white-knuckling the wheel, my partner laughing hysterically as we reversed for what felt like miles to let a farmer’s tractor past. Classic us, turning a straightforward journey into mild chaos, but by the time we spotted Loch Tay shimmering in the distance, all was forgiven. The anticipation built as we wound into the sleepy village – I could already picture unwinding with a cuppa, far from the daily grind.

Pulling into the off-road parking near Kenmore, just 4.1 miles away, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. This superb single-storey spot perched right by the loch felt like it was hugging the hills. We hauled our bags up the external stairs, and stepping into the open-plan living space was pure bliss – light flooding in, everything cosy and inviting. No grand mansion, just the perfect retreat for a couple craving that Perthshire peace. We dumped the luggage and beelined for the private decking, those sun loungers calling our names with views that wrapped around us like a warm blanket. Loch Tay stretched out below, mist rolling off the water – we cracked open a bottle of wine right there for an alfresco welcome, toasting to no emails or alarm clocks.

The next few days melted into simple pleasures, the kind that make you wonder why we don’t do this more often. Mornings started with lazy brews on the deck, watching Highland cows amble by in the fields. We’d wander down to the loch’s edge for a gentle stroll – no hardcore hikes, just hand-in-hand padding along pebbly shores, skipping stones and giggling when mine plopped straight in. Fearnan’s so quiet, it’s like the world’s on mute; we popped into the wee local shop for fresh scones and tatties, chatting with folks who knew every bird by name.

One afternoon, cottage life hit its chaotic peak – I fancied being all domestic god, firing up a barbecue on the deck for some local salmon we’d nabbed from Kenmore’s farm shop. Disaster! The wind whipped up, sending smoke signals that probably alerted half of Perthshire, and I ended up looking like a soot-covered pirate. My partner just handed me a tea towel and a dram, saying, “You’re a hero in your own mind, love.” We laughed till our sides hurt, devouring slightly charred but delicious grub under the stars, with a late-night tipple turning into stargazing heaven.

Reflecting on it now, sat back home with the washing piling up, that break was a gentle nudge: we’re not getting any younger, but these pockets of joy – the loch’s whisper, shared mishaps, deck-side sunsets – they recharge the soul like nothing else. Perthshire’s got that magic for couples ditching the bustle; if you’re after cottage calm with a side of scenic bliss, this is your spot. We’re already plotting a return.