I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire last autumn – golden leaves swirling like confetti as we trundled along the A40, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a muddy farm track near Haverfordwest. Cue a mild panic with the wheels spinning in the first proper downpour of the season, me muttering about “typical Welsh weather” while the kids giggled from the back. A quick tow from a passing farmer (cheers, mate!) and we were back on track, hearts racing a bit, but buzzing with that pre-holiday fizz.

Pulling up to this gorgeous white-painted cottage tucked away at Poyston Cross was pure magic. About four miles from Haverfordwest, it’s nestled in this serene spot with off-road parking that made unpacking a doddle, even in the drizzly twilight. The exterior looked like something from a postcard – all cosy and inviting against the fiery backdrop of turning trees. Stepping inside, the homely living/dining room hit us with warmth: leather sofas begging us to flop down, and a big table for eight that screamed family feasts or rainy-day board games. With thirty acres of land to roam and a hot tub steaming away out back, it felt like the perfect autumn bolthole.

Autumn in Pembrokeshire shaped every minute of our stay, turning what could’ve been a soggy week into something utterly enchanting. Mornings started misty, the cottage windows fogged up from the chill, so we’d brew tea and peer out at deer grazing the fields, their breath clouding in the crisp air. A short hop to Haverfordwest meant stocking up on pasties and local cheese from the market – nothing beats that first bite of crumbly Welsh cheddar when the leaves are crunching underfoot. We wandered the castle grounds there, the ancient walls draped in ivy gone russet, kids pretending to be knights while I snuck a quiet moment reflecting on how fast they’re growing. Holidays like this make you realise you need to savour these simple bits more.

Days out were all about that seasonal glow. We drove the few miles to the coast near Broad Haven, where the sea was a moody slate grey, waves crashing dramatically under bruised skies. Clambering over rock pools at low tide, we hunted for crabs hiding in the seaweed, the salty wind whipping our scarves. Back at the cottage, evenings revolved around the hot tub – bubbles and steam cutting through the nippy air, mulled cider in hand as stars pierced the clearing skies. One night, a proper storm rolled in, rain lashing the windows, and we hunkered down for a games marathon at that massive table, laughter echoing louder than the wind.

Even the quieter walks across the land felt alive with autumn’s touch – fungi sprouting like hidden treasures, the grass damp and springy. It wasn’t all sun-drenched beaches; this time of year brought a deeper cosiness, a slower pace that forced us to unplug. Sure, I had a daft moment spilling soup down my jumper mid-family dinner, earning the “clumsy dad” badge, but it just added to the charm. Leaving felt bittersweet, but Pembrokeshire in autumn? It’s etched in my mind as the cosiest escape ever. Can’t wait to return when the frosts start biting.