I’ll never forget the drive over to the Isle of Wight for my three-day jaunt to that cosy 1 Bed Lodge in Sandown – it was bang in the heart of autumn, with those crisp October leaves swirling like confetti under a sky that couldn’t decide if it was moody or just having a laugh. I’d caught the ferry from Portsmouth, the Solent choppier than a pint of ale after last orders, and wouldn’t you know it, I managed to spill my thermos of builder’s tea all over the passenger seat about halfway across. Proper daft, me – I’m sat there mopping it up with a service station napkin, thinking, “Well, that’s one way to christen the trip.” By the time I rolled off the ramp at Fishbourne and trundled down the island’s winding lanes towards Sandown, the sun was peeking through like it was apologising for the morning’s gloom.

Pulling up to the lodge just as the afternoon light dipped low, I was chuffed to bits. Tucked away in a quiet spot off Sandown’s main drag, it’s the sort of place that screams “get away from it all” without being miles from the action – you’re a brisk five-minute stroll from the beach and the high street’s chip shops. Autumn had worked its magic here; the garden was a riot of golden foliage, with ferns rustling in that fresh, briny breeze off the sea. I fumbled the key under the flowerpot (classic cottage vibes), and stepped inside to a snug haven that felt like a warm hug after the ferry fiasco. The open-plan living area was compact but spot-on for one – plush sofa facing a telly that promised rubbish autumn telly marathons, and a kitchenette kitted out with everything from a trusty kettle to a mini oven for knocking up a stew. That one bedroom upstairs? Pure bliss – a double bed piled high with duck-down duvet, and a window framing the amber hues of the turning trees outside. First impressions? It was like the lodge had been waiting just for me, all wood-beamed charm and that faint scent of sea salt mingling with woodsmoke from someone’s nearby chimney.

I dumped my bags and headed out for a nose around, the seasonal shift making everything feel alive in that mellow way autumn does best on the Wight. Sandown Beach was a five-minute wander down the road, and blimey, what a sight – the vast sweep of sand empty save for a few dog-walkers chucking balls for their spaniels, the waves crashing with a frothy white edge under that huge, low sun. No summer crowds to dodge, just me crunching over pebbles that glistened like jewels in the fading light. I nipped into the high street for a bag of fresh doughnuts from one of those old-school parlours – hot, sugary, and perfect for combating the chill that nips at your fingers by teatime. Back at the lodge, I brewed a cuppa and settled on the patio (brave soul that I am, wrapped in a scarf), watching the sky turn from peach to purple. The air was alive with that earthy tang of fallen leaves and distant bonfires – proper Isle of Wight autumn, where the island shrinks to these intimate pockets of beauty.

As the evening drew in, I rustled up some pasta in the kitchen, the little wood-burner crackling away (it’s got one of those, hasn’t it? Or at least I imagined it did in my chilled-out state). Sat there with my plate, gazing out at the twilight, I had one of those gentle moments of reflection – you know, the kind where you realise how daft it is to let life’s little spills (tea or otherwise) throw you off. This lodge, in its autumnal glow, reminded me there’s joy in the quiet bits: no itinerary, just the rhythm of the tides and the rustle of leaves. First day in, and I was already smitten – if the rest of the trip matched this, I’d be back before the first frost. What a cracking start.