I’ll never forget the drive to Allerton Premier last autumn – that golden time of year when Somerset’s hedgerows explode into fiery reds and oranges, turning every twisty lane into a postcard. It was mid-October, and I’d set off from Bristol early, fancying a leisurely three-day escape to this cosy cottage in Cheddar. The sat-nav promised 45 minutes, but wouldn’t you know it, I had a proper daft mishap right at the start. Spilled my morning tea all over the passenger seat while faffing with the radio – classic me, always a bit scatty when I’m excited. Mopped it up with an old jumper, chuckling to myself as the first leaves swirled past like confetti. By the time I hit the A38, the sun was peeking through misty valleys, bathing the Mendip Hills in that soft, slanting light only October can muster.

Pulling up to Allerton Premier just before noon felt like stumbling into a hug from an old mate. Tucked in a quiet spot near Cheddar, it’s one of those classic stone cottages that scream Somerset – low-beamed ceilings, a wood-burning stove already crackling away (bless the hosts for that), and views straight out to the autumn-drenched gorge. The season had worked its magic here; the garden was a riot of rustling copper beeches and fallen leaves carpeting the patio like a crunchy quilt. I stepped inside, boots shedding a few damp ones from the morning dew, and proper grinned. First impressions? Bloody spot-on. The open-plan living area was snug as a bug, with squashy sofas begging you to flop down after a drive. That wood stove wasn’t just for show – it was pumping out toasty warmth against the crisp chill outside, where the air nipped at your cheeks like a cheeky puppy.

Unpacking took two minutes flat, then I was straight out to explore on foot, because how could you not when autumn paints Cheddar Gorge like a watercolour? It’s only a short stroll away, and the season turned it into something magical – cliffs cloaked in bronze bracken, the odd bramble heavy with blackberries that I couldn’t resist picking (and promptly stained my fingers purple, looking like I’d been finger-painting with jam). The light was pure poetry, low and golden, filtering through the trees to spotlight dripping ferns and mossy rocks. I huffed up a path, laughing at how my trainers slipped on the leaf mulch – light humour for you: I nearly went arse-over-tit, but caught myself on a branch, feeling like a fool in the best way. Pausing at a viewpoint, I watched a buzzard wheel overhead, the whole gorge hushed under a sky streaked with wispy clouds. It was one of those moments that sneaks up on you, a gentle nudge to reflect: rushing through life back home, I’d forgotten how autumn strips everything back, makes you breathe deeper, appreciate the quiet shift from green to gold.

Back at the cottage by late afternoon, the seasonal shift really shone. The sun dipped early, casting long shadows across the kitchen where I rustled up a stew with local cider from the nearby farm shop – nothing fancy, just root veg and pork, bubbling away as rain pattered the windows. Cosy doesn’t even cover it; with the stove glowing and a pint in hand, it felt like the perfect antidote to the gathering dusk. First evening impressions sealed it: Allerton Premier isn’t just a stay, it’s a seasonal embrace, wrapping you in Somerset’s autumn arms. I sat there, feet up, thinking how this time of year turns a simple cottage into pure magic – fleeting, yes, but all the more precious for it. Can’t wait to go back next October.