I’ll never forget the drive over to Anglesey – we’d packed the car to the brim with wellies, dog leads, and enough crisps to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky detour through some narrow lanes near Newborough. There I was, white-knuckling the wheel as a tractor lumbered past, thinking, “This is it, our grand Welsh escape derailed before tea time.” But honestly, it just added to the fun – we arrived laughing, hearts racing a bit from the anticipation of kicking back by the sea.

Pulling up to the place, my first impressions were spot on: this contemporary maisonette, spread over two floors, looked ever so inviting with its stylish vibe and that promise of family-friendly bliss for us four plus our soppy Labrador, Monty. Stepping inside, I was chuffed – the fully equipped kitchen/diner had everything you could need, high-quality gadgets gleaming, making cooking a doddle while the dishwasher and washing machine promised to handle the grunt work. That large dining table screamed family meals, and out in the courtyard, with its seating, we cracked open a few cold ones straight away, toasting the sea breeze.

But let’s be honest, the real joy of the whole trip was doing sod all – proper lazy cottage days, the kind you dream of when life’s rushing by. We’d flop on the sumptuous corner sofa in the sitting room, Smart TV flickering with some mindless box set, Monty sprawled on his blanket nearby, paws twitching in doggy dreams. Mornings blurred into reading sessions; I’d bury myself in a battered paperback, cuppa in hand, while the others did the same. No grand plans, just the gentle lap of waves from nearby Newborough Beach carrying on the air – it’s right there, a short stroll away, perfect for a desultory wander if the mood took us, but mostly we didn’t bother.

One afternoon, lounging in the courtyard with the sun filtering through, I had a proper moment of self-reflection. There I was, mid-40s, usually glued to emails, realising how rare it is to just… stop. No schedules, no scrolling, just the rustle of pages and Monty’s contented snores. It was hilariously simple – we’d rustle up a lazy lunch from local bits nabbed from the village shop, maybe nibble on Welsh cakes, then back to the sofa for a nap. Evenings melted into board games at the table, laughter echoing, before another courtyard bevvie under the stars.

Newborough’s got that unhurried magic – dunes to gaze at from afar, the odd pony sighting on the beach if you fancied a meander, but we savoured the slowing down. No rushing to Llanddwyn or anywhere; it was all about the maisonette’s cosy bubble. By the end, I felt recharged, lighter. If you’re after a holiday that’s more pause button than play, this is your spot. We’re already plotting a return – Monty’s insisting.