I’ll never forget the drive down to the Gower Peninsula – a proper faff from the M4, with sat-nav insisting we take some winding back lane that turned out to be more pothole than path. We’d packed the car like we were off on an expedition, only for the heavens to open just as we hit the peninsula, turning the windscreen into a blurry mess. By the time we pulled up, both me and the missus were knackered, but honestly, that little mishap just made the arrival feel even sweeter.

Nestled in the peaceful grounds of what used to be Oldwalls Gower, up in North Gower, this first-floor apartment is a proper gem – beautifully done out, all cosy and characterful, smack in the middle of an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. The rolling countryside stretched out around us, with those big open skies that make you feel properly small. Stepping inside, I had this rush of anticipation – you know, that buzz of wondering what the week would bring? But from the off, the first impressions were spot on: light flooding through the windows, everything spotless and inviting. It was like the place was whispering, “Sit down, love, and don’t rush a thing.”

And that’s exactly what we did. The joy of it all was doing bugger all – or rather, doing very little, very well. Mornings started slow, with a brew in hand, watching the mist lift over the fields from the balcony. The gardens here are an absolute dream, wildflowers nodding in the breeze and benches tucked away just begging to be lounged on. I’d wander down with a book – some tatty paperback I’d been meaning to crack for months – and flop into a chair, letting the hours slip by. No agendas, no alarms. The missus would potter about, sketching the odd sheep or cloud, while I pretended to read but mostly just dozed, lulled by the distant hum of bees.

Afternoons blurred into the same lazy rhythm. We’d meander the grounds, spotting butterflies or whatever bird was flitting about – nothing strenuous, mind, just enough to stretch the legs before retreating back to the apartment for tea and biscuits. Evenings were for firing up the little grill on the patio, knocking up something simple like sausages and salad, eaten outside as the sun dipped low. One night, I caught myself staring at the stars – proper clear skies, no light pollution – and had this quiet moment of reflection. Back home, life’s a non-stop whirl of emails and errands; here, I realised how knackered I’d been carrying it all. Slowing down felt like a luxury I’d forgotten about. Why rush when the world’s this peaceful?

By the end of the week, we’d barely left the grounds, and that was the point. No grand adventures, just pure, unhurried bliss. If you’re after a proper reset, this is the spot – Gower’s magic without the effort. We drove off feeling lighter, already plotting a return.