I’ll never forget the drive over to Anglesey – we’d packed the car to the brim with beach gear, dog leads, and enough snacks to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck a wobbly just past the Britannia Bridge. It rerouted us down some winding back lane that felt like it hadn’t seen tarmac since the war, and there we were, bumping along with me muttering about “one more shortcut, love” while the other half shot me that look. Still, by the time we rolled up, hearts racing a bit from the detour, I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation – you know, the kind where you imagine lazy days by the sea and no emails pinging.

First impressions? Blimey, what a spot. It’s this cracking second-floor apartment right in the thick of Benllech, slap bang in that Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Sea views from the Juliet balcony that hit you like a tonic, open-plan living with a Smart TV for rainy evenings, and a kitchen kitted out to whip up feasts. Allocated parking was a godsend after our little adventure, and the dog gave it the once-over and promptly flopped down like he owned the place. Stone’s throw from the beach, too – perfect for us lot wanting a proper coastal unwind.

But the real magic? Getting properly lost. None of your coach-tour malarkey; we stumbled on Anglesey’s hidden gems by sheer fluke, and it turned the whole trip into an adventure. First morning, we fancied a stroll along Benllech beach – wide golden sands, gentle waves lapping – but instead of heading the obvious way, we veered off down a scrubby path the dog dragged us along. Ended up at this tucked-away cove, barely a soul there, just seals bobbing offshore and rock pools teeming with crabs. We spent hours poking about, me nearly toppling in while trying to net a blenny. Laughed till our sides hurt.

Next day, aiming for a chippy lunch, we took a “shortcut” through the dunes behind the bay. Lost? Utterly. But it spat us out at a secret stretch of coastline near St David’s Breakwater – not the main drag, mind, just this wild, rugged bit with driftwood sculptures locals must’ve knocked up and waves crashing like they meant business. Picnicked there with pasties from the village shop, wind whipping our hair, feeling like we’d nicked a private paradise.

Even pottered over to nearby Priestland – off-the-beaten-track heaven, that. Narrow lanes led to a pond where herons fished lazily, and an ice cream van that appeared like a mirage. The other half found a wildflower meadow for photos, while I reflected on how daft it is rushing through life back home. Here, getting lost forced us to slow down, breathe the sea air, chat properly. No maps, just serendipity.

By week’s end, we’d mapped our own mental treasure trove: forgotten dunes, pebbly nooks, a cliff path with views that stopped you in your tracks. Anglesey’s got that knack – lure you in with postcard beaches, then reward the wanderers with secrets. If you’re after a holiday that feels like your own discovery, this is it. Can’t wait to go back and lose ourselves all over again.