I’ll never forget the drive down to Dorset last autumn – that crisp October weekend when the leaves were turning all shades of amber and gold, and the air had that proper nip to it that makes you glad you packed an extra jumper. I’d booked Prestige 3, a cosy six-sleeper cottage just outside Dorchester, for a three-day jaunt with mates. The sat-nav was doing its usual faffing about on those narrow country lanes, and wouldn’t you know it, about five miles out, I managed to splash straight through a massive puddle left by the morning’s drizzle. Mud all over the windscreen – proper comedy gold as I squeegeed it off while swearing under my breath, feeling like a right numpty. But hey, it set the tone: nothing too polished, just real, seasonal Dorset vibes.

Pulling up to Prestige 3 around teatime, the first impression hit like a warm hug from the countryside. The place is one of those prestige-grade cottages from Snaptrip – detached, with private parking for six cars (handy for our convoy of daft drivers), and ensuites for everyone, which is a godsend when you’re sharing with four lads who think midnight wees are a team sport. Autumn’s golden hour was in full swing as we unloaded, the sun dipping low behind the rolling hills, casting long shadows over the decked terrace. That deck was calling my name straight away – perfect for a brew with a view, though the chill wind had us zipping up coats pronto. Inside, the open-plan living area felt like slipping into a favourite woolly scarf: underfloor heating blasting away the damp, a massive telly for footie, and a kitchen kitted out for whipping up a roast. The seasonal shift made it all the more inviting – outside, the garden was a riot of fallen leaves crunching underfoot, but indoors, it was pure hygge heaven.

First impressions? Spot on for an autumn escape. We cracked open a bottle of red (local Dorset red, naturally – they do a cracking one from Bride Valley), and sprawled on the sofas, gazing out at the twilight. The deck, with its hot tub bubbling invitingly, tempted us for all of five minutes before the plummeting temperature won. “Blimey, it’s brass monkey weather out there,” laughed Tom, opting for the wood-burning stove instead. We lit it up, and the crackle filled the room, mingling with the scent of pine from the nearby woods. That’s Dorset in October for you – days short and sharp, but evenings made for lingering indoors, sharing stories over steaming mugs of tea.

Wandering the garden at dawn the next morning (well, half eight, after a late one), the mist clung to the fields like a soft blanket, and the dew on the grass sparkled in the weak sun. Prestige 3’s location is a belter – close enough to Dorchester’s high street for a cheeky pasty from the bakery, but far enough to feel immersed in rural bliss. Popped over to Poundbury, that quirky model village just a couple of miles away, for coffee and a gawp at the Georgian-style cottages glowing in the harvest light. The season shaped every moment: the way the low sun filtered through the trees lining the lanes, turning everything painterly; the earthy smell after a light shower that had us dashing back inside, giggling like kids. No swimming in the sea at Weymouth this trip – too bracing – but the hot tub on the deck called after dark, stars popping out crisp and clear above the chimney smoke from neighbouring farms.

Sitting there on day two, steaming away under the autumn sky, I had a quiet moment of reflection. Life in the city’s a grind, innit? But here, wrapped in the cottage’s comforts, with the world outside hushed by falling leaves, I felt properly reset. No signal faff, just us lot nattering about nothing much. Prestige 3 nailed those first impressions – a seamless blend of luxury and that down-to-earth Dorset charm, all amplified by the season’s mellow magic. If you’re after an autumnal bolt-hole, this is your spot. Couldn’t have asked for a better start to the weekend.