Do you remember the feeling of going to your nanna’s house as a child? The familiar smell of home cooking wafting out of the kitchen, the old-fashioned but dependable décor, the rattle of the ceiling fan as it did its best to keep up with the heat on languid summer afternoons? Above all, do you remember the feeling of calm and contentment of that simple time?

It is this almost-forgotten feeling that you get when staying at Dar Madre Tereza Spinelli, a retreat house run by Augustinian Sisters in the Gozitan village of Ghajnsielem. And in a village whose name translates to ‘peaceful spring’, it all seems so fitting!

I’m the first to admit to some scepticism at the initial suggestion of going to stay with the nuns. Despite being raised Catholic and not having any specific quarrels with it, I’d be hard pressed to call myself religious. Having no previous experience with retreat houses (unlike Richard, my partner, who’d been to a few growing up and would join me on my sojourn), I wasn’t sure what to expect, but my fears – if you could call them that – were instantly allayed.

The Augustinian Sisters residing at Dar Madre Tereza Spinelli are among the sweetest people I’ve ever met, and upon arrival, made us feel immediately at home. Showing us to our room, making sure we were comfortable and fussing only over whether we’d be joining them for lunch, we both felt a familiar, and incredibly sweet, grandmotherly vibe that’s hard to describe, let alone emulate.

Housed within a sizeable building dating back to the ‘60s or ‘70s, the architecture of the place is characterised by large arches and heavy metal windows, and underfoot, the terrazzo floor tiles we all remember from our childhood – how much I’d played on floors like these at my own grandmother’s house, just a few kilometres away in Victoria!

The furniture is also typical of the period, and can now be comfortably called retro, though I’m certain that this can’t be further from the minds of the hospitable nuns that live here. What is of concern to them (and really, the only thing of concern) is that the people who stay with them are comfortable and happy. And, quelling my religious anxieties, they kindly reassure me that everyone is welcome, from those seeking a spiritual retreat to others who are simply after a little peace. It is also worth noting that while they do offer guided religious retreats which include programmes of prayers and mass, these are avoided in the summer months, because, as one of the sisters succinctly puts it, “it’s just too hot!”

The rooms are simply furnished with the essentials: basic bedroom furniture, a small but clean ensuite bathroom and a very hard-working fan to assuage the summer heat. It’s all you need, and the lack of modern luxuries and technology really contributes to the sense of calm. The best part however, has got to be the garden. While it’s nowhere near large enough to get physically lost in, it’s so quiet and peaceful that it’s easy to get lost in a thoughtful reverie.

All in all, our visit to Dar Madre Tereza Spinelli couldn’t have come at a better time – in the midst of a particularly busy period, in which commitments and events vie for attention in our calendars – the place had its work cut out, and it certainly fulfilled the brief. Oh, and then there was the food.

While you can choose to do your own thing when it comes to food (you’ve got your own key, and can come and go as you please, whatever the time, so long as you are respectful), the nuns also offer the option of joining them for lunch. We did, and didn’t regret it. For a tiny cost, we were served a three-course meal of what can only be described as the homeliest of food, starting with a simple pasta dish, followed by pork and potatoes, finished off with fresh fruit and ice-cream. The comforting meal, and the clear Pyrex plates it was served on, tipped us once again into our childhoods, calling up countless happy memories of meals served just like this, among myriad siblings and cousins, all clamouring around a heaving table for the next plate.

Towards the end of our tranquil weekend at the retreat house, in which we (gratefully and uncharacteristically) did very little, it was clear what a wonderful effect the place had had – we were happier, chattier and more relaxed than when we had gone in. I’ve decided to call it the nanna effect, because sometimes, when it all gets a bit too much, we could all do with a little of that particular brand of TLC that our grandmothers are so good at giving. And as one of the cheery nuns waved us off with an open welcome to come back any time, we didn’t even have to look at each other before saying ‘we will!’