I’ll never forget the drive over to Anglesey – we’d packed the car to the gills with kids’ beach toys, cool bags stuffed with picnic sarnies, and enough crisps to feed a small army. Halfway across the Menai Bridge, disaster struck: the satnav decided to throw a wobbly and rerouted us down some winding country lane that felt like it hadn’t seen tarmac since the war. The little ones were chanting “Are we there yet?” on loop, and I was sweating bullets trying not to snap. But as we finally crested the hill towards Red Wharf Bay, the stress melted away. That first glimpse of the sandy beach stretching out, sparkling under the sun, with the sea all gentle and inviting – it was pure magic. We couldn’t wait to kick off our shoes.

Pulling up to the coach house, right overlooking the beach, we were chuffed to bits. It’s this bright, spacious ground-floor apartment, perfect for a family like ours who aren’t big on stairs. There’s a comfy double bedroom up a short flight, and a twin on the level, which was a godsend with our youngest who’s still a bit wobbly on his pins. We tumbled in, bags everywhere, and it felt like home straight off – cosy, well-kitted out, with everything you need for a proper chill.

First morning, we strolled straight out the door onto the sand at Red Wharf Bay. The tide was out, revealing these massive expanses of flat beach that the kids turned into their personal playground. We built wonky sandcastles that kept collapsing in hilarious slow-motion disasters – one wave and ours looked like a drunk Jenga tower. I ended up knee-deep in wet sand, laughing till my sides hurt, while the other half tried (and failed) to look dignified rescuing a flotilla of plastic ducks.

Lunch was a doddle – a five-minute wander to Benllech, just 1.8 miles up the road, where we grabbed fish and chips from a chippy that smelled like heaven. Sat on the sea wall, vinegar dripping everywhere, watching families paddle in the shallows. Proper holiday bliss. Afternoons were for pottering: beachcombing for shiny shells, a gentle walk along the coastal path with views that make you stop and breathe deep. The east coast here is dotted with little coves and easy trails – nothing too strenuous, just enough to work up an appetite for ice creams back at the bay.

Evenings brought that lovely cottage chaos we crave. We’d fire up a simple barbecue on the patio (weather permitting – Anglesey’s got that cheeky Welsh breeze), with the kids racing around before crashing out early. One night, I caught myself staring out at the sunset over the bay, pint in hand, thinking how daft it is that we’re always rushing about back home. This place strips it all back to the simple stuff: sand between toes, family giggles, and no agenda. It’s made me promise we’ll do more of this – no grand adventures, just proper unwinding.

If you’re after a relaxed family break on Anglesey’s doorstep, with pub grub and beach a stone’s throw, this is it. We left with sandy socks, full bellies, and hearts a million miles from the daily grind. Can’t wait to go back.