I’ll never forget the drive over to Beaumaris last month – we’d packed the car to bursting with kids’ snacks and cool bags, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky traffic jam just past Bangor. One of those classic moments where you’re humming along to Radio 2, then suddenly it’s stop-start for half an hour because some sheep decided to have a lie-in on the road. Still, by the time we rolled into town, the sun was glinting off the Menai Strait, and my heart did a little flip. I’d been buzzing about this trip for weeks, picturing lazy mornings with sea views and proper family time away from the daily grind.

Pulling up to the apartment, we were gobsmacked by the spot – right on the scenic seafront, with those jaw-dropping vistas across the strait and back towards Snowdonia. It’s one of those delightful places you access up two flights of stairs, straight into this quirky, homely living area that feels like a hug from an old mate. Three bedrooms sorted us perfectly: a cracking king-size double (we’d sorted the zip/link setup beforehand), a twin with its own ensuite, and a bunk room that had the kids squealing with joy. Being smack in the heart of Beaumaris, it was ideal for popping out to all the local gems without trekking miles.

But let’s be honest, the real star of the show was the food – or should I say, our heroic attempts at feasting like locals. First morning, I fancied playing master chef in the well-kitted kitchen, whipping up a full Welsh breakfast with local sausages I’d nabbed from the butchers on Castle Street. Bacon sizzling, eggs from some nearby farm stall, cockles straight off the beach (well, bought from a bloke selling them fresh by the pier). It was a right laugh, though I nearly set off the smoke alarm juggling the laverbread – turns out it’s trickier than it looks on telly.

We wandered down to the high street market that Saturday, a proper treasure trove of Anglesey goodies. Fresh crab from Menai Bridge fishermen, artisan cheeses that could make you weep, and piles of strawberries so sweet they didn’t need sugar. Loaded up on bara brith and Welsh cakes for elevenses, then hit the Red Boat Ice Cream Parlour for cones piled high with local dairy – the kids demolished three each before lunch. Pub grub called next; The Bulkeley Arms just down the way did a mean fish and chips with mushy peas that tasted like the sea itself. Pint of local ale for me, lemonade for the little ones, and we sat outside watching boats bob on the strait.

Evenings were for cosy self-catering wins: pasta with cockles and garlic one night (nailed it!), followed by a disastrous attempt at Welsh rarebit that ended up more ‘rabbit’ than rare – melted cheese everywhere, but we laughed it off with chocolate from the pier shop. One night, we splashed out at the Bay Restaurant, right by the seafront, on mussels in cider and crab linguine that were pure heaven. The portions were generous, the vibe relaxed, and those views at dusk? Magic.

Reflecting on it now, amid the mucky plates and full bellies, I realised this trip wasn’t just about scoffing – it was about slowing down, letting the kids help chop veg without a fuss, and sharing stories over seconds. Beaumaris fed us body and soul, and we’re already plotting a return for more of those market hauls. If you’re after a seaside bolt-hole where the eating’s as good as the exploring, this is your spot.