I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire last autumn – those golden leaves swirling like confetti as we trundled along the A40, proper British weather turning the sky into a moody watercolour. We’d booked this little holiday spot near Wolfscastle, about 1.8 miles out, and I was buzzing with that pre-arrival excitement, imagining cosy evenings by a woodburning stove while the wind howled outside. But typical me, I took a wrong turn just past Haverfordwest, ending up on some narrow lane that had me white-knuckling the wheel through a sudden downpour. “This is it,” I muttered to my other half, “we’re officially lost in Wales.” A quick U-turn and a sat-nav rant later, we spotted the place – a charming single-storey barn conversion tucked on the rural outskirts, nestled bang between the coast and the Preseli Hills. First impressions? Magic. The autumn light was hitting it just right, all warm and inviting, with the hot tub steaming gently in the crisp air like it was calling our names.

Stepping inside felt like a hug from the season itself. That open-plan living area was perfect for hunkering down as the days grew shorter – we lit the woodburning stove straight away, its crackle drowning out the patter of rain on the windows. Three comfy bedrooms with king-size beds waited for us, one with its own en-suite that was a godsend after muddy walks, and the main bathroom was pure bliss, all sleek and relaxing for a long soak after being out in the chill. It slept us lot brilliantly – me, my partner, and our mates – without anyone feeling short-changed.

Autumn shaped every bit of it, really. Mornings started with mist rolling off the nearby coast, just a short drive to spots like St Davids for a blustery cliff-top wander, the sea crashing below in that dramatic Welsh way. We’d barbecue in the sheltered patio when the sun peeked out – sausages and chestnuts sizzling, leaves crunching underfoot – but dashed inside laughing when the inevitable shower hit. One afternoon, we pottered to local Preseli trails, the hills alive with rustling bracken and that earthy scent you only get in October. I had a proper daft moment slipping on wet slate, landing flat on my bum – “Graceful as ever,” my mate chuckled. But it was hilarious, and we warmed up back at the barn with mugs of tea, hot tub bubbling away for sunset dips under a fiery sky. The season made it feel alive, you know? No scorching summers or barren winters – just that perfect crispness urging you to wrap up, explore a bit, then retreat to comfort.

Looking back, it got me reflecting on how I rush about at home. Out there, with the falling leaves and shorter days, everything slowed down. We cooked proper meals, played cards till late, watched the stars pop out clearer than I’ve seen in ages. If you’re after a stylish getaway that hugs the rhythms of the year, this corner of Pembrokeshire in autumn is spot on – left me recharged and grinning like a fool. Can’t wait to go back.