I’ll never forget the drive to Pemberley Watersedge Lodge last autumn – that crisp October weekend when the leaves were turning gold and the air had that proper bite to it, making you glad for a decent coat. I’d set off from Bristol early, fancying a leisurely scoot down the A4, but wouldn’t you know it, I took a wrong turn near Saltford and ended up faffing about on some narrow lanes, swearing at the satnav like it was my ex. Classic me – always the one to turn a 20-minute jaunt into an unplanned countryside tour. By the time I pulled up to the lodge on the edge of Bath, the sun was dipping low, painting the River Avon in those moody amber hues that only autumn can muster, and I was starving but buzzing with anticipation.

Nestled right by the water’s edge on Bathampton’s quiet stretch, Pemberley Watersedge Lodge is the sort of place that whispers “cosy escape” from the moment you spot it. It’s a charming little detached lodge, all stone and timber with a thatched roof that looked like it belonged in a Jane Austen novel – fitting, really, given Bath’s Regency vibes. I parked up on the gravel drive, crunching leaves underfoot, and hauled my bags through the front door into a world of pure autumnal snugness. The open-plan living space hit me first: a wood-burning stove already laid with kindling (bless the hosts), plush sofas draped in tartan throws, and windows framing the river where mallards were paddling about like they owned the place. Outside, the private hot tub steamed gently in the chill, surrounded by a fenced garden gone wild with fallen leaves – the season’s handiwork turning it into a crunchy, golden playground.

First impressions? Bloody brilliant. I dumped my stuff and cracked open a window to let in that earthy, damp scent of autumn woods mingling with the river’s fresh tang. Bath in October is magic – no summer crowds clogging the pavements, just a soft mist rolling in from the hills, turning everything ethereal. I’d timed it perfectly; the trees along the water were at peak fiery colour, reds and oranges reflecting off the Avon like a living postcard. No faffing with peak-season prices either – it felt like the lodge was mine alone, a secret hideaway just a short stroll from Bath’s heart.

I couldn’t resist a potter outside straight away. The garden path led down to the water’s edge, where I stood watching the weir gurgle away, leaves swirling in the eddies. It was bracing – proper fresh air that nips at your cheeks and clears the cobwebs. Back inside, I got the stove going (matches provided, thank goodness, as I’m rubbish with fires), and soon the room was toasty, flames dancing as daylight faded to a twilight glow. I rustled up some tea and scones from my boot – nothing fancy, but with the seasonal shift outside, it felt like a feast. Peering out, I spotted a heron stalking the shallows, and couldn’t help chuckling at how the autumn quiet amplified every rustle and ripple. No blaring music from neighbours, just nature’s soundtrack, dialed up by the time of year.

That first evening, as I slipped into the hot tub under a canopy of stars peeking through the branches, bubbles churning against the cooling air, I had one of those gentle moments of reflection. Life’s been a whirl lately – work piling up, the usual stresses – but here, wrapped in autumn’s embrace, with steam rising and the river lapping nearby, I felt properly grounded. Bath’s ancient stones are only a ten-minute drive away, but this lodge made staying put the highlight. The season shaped it all: shorter days urging you indoors to that stove’s warmth, foliage framing views that screamed “slow down”, and that golden light turning ordinary moments golden. By bedtime, snuggled under a quilt with the window cracked to the night chill, I was already plotting a return. If autumn’s your thing, Pemberley Watersedge Lodge is the spot – mishaps and all.