I’ll never forget the drive to our little holiday spot in the Brecon Beacons – a proper Welsh adventure that started with me taking a wrong turn just outside Builth Wells. Sat nav said one thing, my gut said another, and before I knew it, we were bumping along a narrow lane that looked more like a sheep’s personal runway. Cue mild panic, a three-point turn that took about 20, and a sheep giving us the side-eye as if we’d gatecrashed its picnic. But honestly, that little mishap just ramped up the anticipation – by the time we crested the hill, hearts were racing in the best way.

Pulling up to the property, my jaw dropped. It’s this beautiful recently renovated place perched on a hilltop, every detail spot-on, with sweeping countryside views that make you forget the world exists. Tucked within easy reach of the pretty hamlet of Painscastle, it felt like our own private slice of Wales. First impressions? Pure magic. The sun was dipping low, painting the hills gold, and we couldn’t wait to kick off our shoes.

But here’s the thing – we’d planned this getaway to do bugger all, and boy, did we nail it. No epic hikes (though those Begwyns, just a short hop away, were tempting for the energetic types), no canoeing down the River Wye or gorge scrambling. Just lazy cottage days, the kind that recharge your soul without you even trying. Mornings kicked off with coffee on the terrace, me in my PJs, watching mist roll off the valleys like a slow-motion nature documentary. The garden was an absolute dream – wildflowers nodding in the breeze, a couple of weathered benches perfect for sinking into with a book. I devoured three paperbacks that week, the pages turning slower than usual because, well, why rush?

Afternoons blurred into dozy bliss. We’d wander the garden paths, picking blackberries (or pretending to, while mostly eating them straight off the bush), then flop into loungers with a picnic from the excellent village pub down the lane – ploughman’s lunches that tasted better al fresco. Evenings meant lighting the fire, cracking open a bottle of something local, and staring out at the stars popping up over the Beacons. No schedules, no screens pinging – just the joy of slowing right down. I had this gentle moment one dusk, sat there with a cuppa, thinking how daft it is that back home I’m always chasing the next thing. Here, doing very little felt like the most productive thing ever. A proper reset.

Sure, Hay-on-Wye’s bookshops were a cheeky five-minute drive if we fancied a mooch, or Bryngwyn Riding Centre for a potter on horseback, but we barely budged. The cottage wrapped us in this cosy bubble, the views doing all the entertaining. If you’re after proper relaxation in the Beacons – the garden lounging, the reading marathons, the sheer delight of nowt much – this is your spot. We left feeling lighter, lazier in the best way, already plotting a return. What a week.