I’ll never forget the drive to Burrington Premier last autumn – leaves crunching under the tyres like a giant bowl of bran flakes, and me, as usual, forgetting to check the satnav before setting off from Bristol. About halfway through the winding lanes near Cheddar, the bloody thing decided to throw a wobbly, directing me down a muddy farm track that looked more like a cow’s spa day than a road. Cue a minor heart-in-mouth moment reversing out, splattered in muck, but honestly, it was the perfect silly start to what turned into a cracking three-day escape in Somerset. By the time I pulled up to the cottage, the October sun was dipping low, painting the Mendip Hills in that golden glow only early autumn can muster – all coppery ferns and hedgerows heavy with blackberries begging to be picked.

Stepping out of the car, the first thing that hit me was the crisp air, laced with that earthy, damp scent you only get when summer’s properly bowed out. Burrington Premier sits tucked away in this idyllic spot just outside Cheddar, the kind of place where the hills rise up like nature’s own welcome committee. It’s a proper cosy stone cottage, the sort that screams “Somerset charm” without trying too hard – weathered walls blending into the landscape, with a cheeky little garden that in autumn felt like my private woodland nook. I arrived mid-afternoon, and the seasonal shift was everywhere: the garden’s apple tree groaning under a bumper crop of bramleys, windfalls dotting the grass like nature’s confetti. I couldn’t resist grabbing a handful for a makeshift crumble later – nothing says autumn like the tart snap of a just-picked apple.

Inside, the first impressions were spot on for a chilled-out getaway. The open-plan living area welcomed me with a wood-burning stove already set with kindling (thank goodness, as the chill was starting to bite), and big windows framing views of the hills swathed in fading greens and rusty reds. It’s the sort of setup that makes you kick off your boots and flop onto the squishy sofa with a cuppa, watching the light fade as mist rolls in from the valleys. Autumn’s shorter days meant cosying up early felt natural, not forced – no FOMO about missing daylight hours. The kitchen was a gem too, stocked with all the basics, and I rustled up a quick cheese toastie using some local cheddar I’d nabbed en route (you’re in Somerset, it’d be rude not to). The bedrooms upstairs? Pure bliss – fluffy duvets begging for a nap, and from the window, you could see the combe stretching out, all cloaked in that moody, low-sun haze.

Wandering the immediate grounds that first evening shaped my whole stay. The season had turned the nearby paths into a crunchy carpet of leaves, perfect for a gentle stroll up to the edge of Burrington Combe – just a short hop from the cottage, with dramatic limestone cliffs glowing in the sunset. No crowds, just the rustle of wind through the trees and the occasional pheasant scarpering off. It was magical how autumn softened everything; the usual summer buzz replaced by this quiet, introspective vibe. I paused there, mug in hand, reflecting on how I’d been rushing through life back home – work deadlines blurring into one – and here, with the hills turning gold, it hit me: sometimes you need that seasonal nudge to just breathe and appreciate the slow unwind.

The mishap on the drive? Laughable now. Burrington Premier nailed those first impressions, all wrapped in October’s embrace – cooler days inviting fireside evenings, harvest vibes in every bite, and a landscape that felt alive in its transition. If you’re after a Somerset bolt-hole where the season steals the show, this is it. Can’t wait for my next visit, whenever the leaves start falling again.