I’ll never forget the drive over to Anglesey – we’d loaded up the car with enough snacks to feed a small army, but about halfway across the bridge, disaster struck. The sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a detour through some narrow lanes that had me white-knuckling the wheel. “This better be worth it,” I muttered to my mate Dave, who was already raiding the crisps. But as we finally rolled into Rhosneigr, that bustling seaside village with its salty breeze and chatter of holidaymakers, all was forgiven. The place just had that instant pull – beachy vibes everywhere, and our first-floor apartment waiting like a promise of lazy days ahead.

Stepping up into the flat, I was chuffed to bits. It’s this contemporary spot right in the heart of things, sea views peeking from the Juliet balcony off the sitting room, and everything screaming easy self-catering. The kitchen was a dream – sleek with all the gadgets you could want, from a cracking oven to a posh coffee machine that made me feel like a proper chef. We’d brought a couple of well-behaved dogs along, and they settled right in, tails wagging at the thought of beach walks later. First impressions? Spot on. I could already picture us cooking up a storm around that four-seater dining table, with the Smart TV humming in the background.

Food became our whole holiday rhythm, honestly. That first evening, we wandered down to the local shops – just a stroll away – and stocked up on fresh Anglesey goodies. Think local crab from the fishmonger, plump tomatoes from a nearby market stall, and some proper Welsh cheeses that smelled like heaven. Back at the flat, I attempted a seafood linguine, channelling my inner Jamie Oliver. It started well – garlic sizzling, pasta boiling – but I overseasoned the sauce something rotten. Dave took one bite and pulled a face: “Mate, it’s like the Irish Sea in a bowl!” We laughed it off with pints from the fridge, salvaging it with lemon and more wine. Lesson learned: less is more in a holiday kitchen.

Next day, we hit the pubs. The Red Sailor down by the beach was our go-to – classic seaside boozer with outdoor tables overlooking the waves. They do these massive fish and chips that are pure comfort: crispy batter, mushy peas on the side, and vinegar sharp enough to wake you up. Paired with a local ale, it was perfection after a morning mooching the beach. We tried the local chippy too, right in the village, grabbing battered sausages and curry sauce to take back for a sofa feast while watching the sunset from the balcony. One night, we pushed the boat out at the Sandbank, a cosy spot a short walk away. Their crab platters? Divine – fresh from the boats, with mayo and bread that melted in your mouth. I had a moment there, fork halfway to my lips, thinking how daft it was that I never make time for this at home. Work stress, endless takeaways – why don’t I cook more? This trip was a gentle nudge: slow down, savour it.

We kept it simple otherwise – farmers’ market on Saturday for bacon butties and homemade sconies with clotted cream. My second cooking crack was a full Welsh breakfast in the kitchen: cockles from the shops (a nod to the local legend), laverbread, and fried eggs. Nailed it this time, served with strong tea. Dave joked I’d gone native. By the end, stomachs full and hearts content, leaving felt like abandoning a mate. Rhosneigr’s food scene had us hooked – can’t wait to go back for more.