I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire last autumn – that crisp October weekend when the leaves were turning all fiery orange and gold, and the air had that proper bracing chill that makes you feel alive. Me and my mate Sarah piled into the car in Cardiff early doors, thermos of tea in hand, blasting a playlist of Welsh indie tunes to get us in the mood. The journey along the A40 was a dream at first, winding through those rolling hills splashed with autumn colour, but then, classic me, I took a wrong turn near Narberth and ended up on some narrow lane that had us dodging rogue pheasants left, right, and centre. “If we don’t spot a fox next, I’m calling this a safari,” Sarah quipped, as I reversed into a hedge for the second time. Laughable really – just a daft five-minute detour that left us giggling and covered in bits of bramble, but it set the tone for a proper unhurried getaway.

By mid-afternoon, we rolled into Tenby, the sky that perfect pale blue you only get in late autumn, with puffs of cloud scudding across like they were late for somewhere. Osprey 7 sits right in the heart of it all, just a stone’s throw from the castle walls and those iconic North Beach sands. Pulling up outside this snug little terraced cottage, I felt that instant “ahh” of arrival – the kind where the stresses of the week melt away. It’s one of those classic Pembrokeshire holiday lets, all whitewashed stone and slate roof, with window boxes still bursting with hardy chrysanthemums nodding in the sea breeze. The door key was tucked under the mat as promised, and stepping inside was like being hugged by a cosy woolly jumper.

First impressions? Blimey, it was spot on for the season. The open-plan living room-kitchen had this big sash window framing the street view towards the harbour, where the tide was out, revealing those glistening mudflats that shimmered in the low golden light. Autumn sunsets hit different here – shorter days meant they started early, painting everything in that warm amber glow. We dumped our bags and cracked open a bottle of local Crafty Devil cider (grabbed from a Tenby offie en route), toasting our good fortune as the room filled with the scent of woodsmoke from nearby chimneys. The wood-burning stove was already laid with kindling, begging to be lit, and with the outside temp dipping to a nippy 10°C, we didn’t need asking twice. Flames crackling away, we sprawled on the squishy leather sofa, feet up on the pouffe, feeling properly smug.

Wandering out for a first proper look around couldn’t have been more seasonal magic. Tenby’s walls glowed russet in the fading light, and the paths down to South Beach were carpeted in fallen leaves crunching underfoot. The sea was that moody slate grey of autumn, waves curling lazily rather than crashing like summer, with gulls wheeling overhead calling out like they owned the place. We nipped into a chippy on the high street – proper proper battered cod and mushy peas, eaten on a bench overlooking the bay as the sun dipped behind Caldey Island. No crowds, just us, a few dog walkers in wax jackets, and the wind whispering through the marram grass. Back at the cottage, the sea mist rolled in after dark, turning the streetlamps into hazy orbs – pure atmosphere.

That first evening, supping tea by the fire while rain pattered softly on the panes, I had a quiet moment of reflection. Work’s been manic lately, you know? Deadlines piling up like driftwood on the shore. But here, in this unpretentious nook with its quirky seagull knick-knacks and sea-view glimpses, I realised how much I needed this reset. Autumn in Pembrokeshire doesn’t shout; it murmurs – inviting you to slow down, wrap up warm, and just breathe in the salty, leaf-mould air. Osprey 7 nailed that vibe from the off. Can’t wait to return when the frost sparkles on the harbour.