We set off from Gothenburg airport with the kind of optimism that only comes from having packed too many books and not enough snacks. The drive down to Skrea Strand took just over an hour, and I spent most of it imagining the first cold beer on the balcony. Then the satnav decided to send us down a narrow track that ended in someone's back garden. We reversed out laughing, only to realise the actual entrance was fifty metres back, hidden behind a hedge that looked exactly like every other hedge. By the time we pulled up at the little white house, the sun was already low and golden, and the mishap felt like the perfect welcome.

The place itself was simple and spotless, with a wooden deck that faced straight out to the dunes. We dropped our bags, kicked off our shoes, and just stood there for a while, listening to the sea. There was nothing urgent to do, which was exactly the point. The first morning we woke to quiet waves and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. We carried our mugs outside, pulled the chairs into a patch of sun, and stayed there until the shadows moved. A walk along the beach later turned into a slow wander rather than a proper stroll; we collected a few shells, watched a dog chase its own reflection in the wet sand, and turned back when we felt like it.

The days that followed fell into the same gentle pattern. Mornings were for reading on the deck, afternoons for short trips to the local bakery in Falkenberg or the supermarket for fresh bread and cheese. We never rushed. One afternoon we sat on a bench near the harbour and shared a cinnamon bun that was still warm, watching boats bob about while the gulls argued overhead. Evenings meant lighting the little barbecue that came with the house and eating outside until the midges got brave. I kept meaning to go for a proper swim, but somehow the book on my lap always won.

It is easy to feel slightly guilty about doing so little, yet the longer we stayed the more natural it felt. There is something quietly restorative about letting the hours stretch without a plan. By the end of the week I had stopped checking my phone for anything except the weather, and the small mishap on arrival already felt like a story from years ago. We left the house tidy, the deck swept, and the same low sun catching the waves as when we arrived.