The cabin waits quietly in the countryside just outside Warrnambool, a timber hideaway nestled near a river we cannot hear but somehow know is there. My fun-loving, fruity friend Caz and I arrive ready to leave the noise of everyday life behind. And by heck, it has been noisy lately.

Inside, polished concrete floors feel cool beneath our feet. Bright rugs and quirky couches bring colour and character to the open living space, perfectly matching our vibrant personalities. Sunlight streams through stained glass windows, scattering pockets of ruby, amber and sapphire across the walls. Every room seems to glow in its own way. A bit like all of us, really. The charcoal-toned bathroom feels wonderfully indulgent, with a deep white bathtub where I spend one morning hidden beneath a mountain of bubbles while coloured light dances across the room. Nearby, a cosy reading nook catches the soft afternoon sun, inviting me to slow down and stay awhile.

Upstairs, the loft opens into a peaceful sleeping space. A queen bed fit for royalty belongs to Queen Caz, while two single beds look out across the open paddocks. The whole cabin feels warm, welcoming and wonderfully unhurried. Our first night is spent curled up on the couch with a feel-good movie playing in the background. Before long, the film fades into little more than noise as we chat each other's ears off. Stories, laughter and reflections on life fill the room well into the evening. We have a way of lifting each other up whenever we connect. We vibe, we laugh and we shine bright like stars in the night sky.

The next morning arrives slowly. We sleep in and sip hot coffee on the deck, breathing in the crisp autumn air. The scent of eucalyptus drifts by as we decide a barbecue is definitely on the menu for dinner. Later, we head to the beach where the wind whips through our hair and the cool sea breeze brushes our faces. Waves crash against the shore while gulls call overhead.

Lunch at Lot 17 becomes an experience all of its own. We place our trust entirely in the chef and settle in with wine in hand. Plate after plate arrives, each one a surprise. Rich flavours, shared dishes and easy conversation make for a delightFULL afternoon. It feels like an early birthday celebration and I am never one to say no to a celebration.

Back at the cabin, the afternoon unfolds gently. Caz rolls out her yoga mat while I curl up with my book. There is nowhere else we need to be and nothing demanding our attention, which is quite a rare thing for either of us. As sunset paints the sky in soft gold and apricot tones, we raise a few cheeky cuppas before firing up the barbecue. Smoke curls into the cool evening air while juicy corn sizzles beside our burgers. Inside, the wood fire crackles and fills the cabin with warmth. We eat, laugh and watch the last light disappear beyond the trees. That night, sleep comes easily. Above us, stars sparkle in the clear autumn sky.

Our final morning is everything the weekend has been. Slow. Quiet. Simple. We linger over breakfast, enjoy long hot showers and hold onto the last few moments before packing up. When it is finally time to leave, I realise the best part of the weekend is not the cabin, the beach or even the beautiful food. It is the time spent with a dear friend. In a world that often moves too fast, these few days gave us space to slow down, reconnect and simply enjoy each other's company.

As the cabin disappears behind us, I leave feeling rested, grateful and full of warmth. Like the last days of autumn, the weekend feels fleeting and precious, a gentle reminder to savour the humans and moments that matter most.