We set off from the mainland in high spirits, the boot stuffed with wellies, sandy towels and far too many snacks for a long weekend. The satnav had other ideas, though, and just as we reached the final turn it cheerfully announced we’d arrived — at a lay-by with nothing but a sheep and a wheelie bin for company. After a quick u-turn and some good-natured bickering about who’d typed the postcode, we finally pulled up outside Monarfon, its whitewashed walls glowing in the late afternoon sun.

The cottage sits just a short stroll from the shore, and the moment we stepped out of the car the salt tang in the air told us we’d made the right choice. Inside, everything felt instantly welcoming: the kitchen table already laid with mismatched mugs, a little welcome note from the owners, and that unmistakable hush you only get when the sea is close by. We dumped our bags, kicked off shoes still gritty from the journey, and wandered straight out again, keen to stretch our legs before supper.

The beach path starts right behind the garden hedge, a narrow track that winds between dunes and leads down to a sweep of sand that was almost empty when we arrived. The tide was out, leaving rock pools glinting in the low light, and the children raced ahead, wellies squelching, while we ambled behind with the dog. It felt wonderfully uncomplicated — no plans, no rush, just the sound of waves and the occasional cry of a gull overhead.

Back at the cottage the evening settled in gently. We cooked a simple pasta on the little electric hob, the windows open so the breeze carried in the smell of the sea. After eating we sat on the low wall outside with mugs of tea, watching the sky fade from peach to lavender. There’s something about that first night away that always makes me notice how tightly I’ve been wound at home; here, the quiet seems to loosen everything without any effort at all.

By the time we turned in, the only light came from a single lamp in the living room and the faint glow of a lighthouse further along the coast. I lay awake for a while listening to the soft hush of the waves, already feeling the gentle rhythm of the place settling over us. It was the sort of arrival that promises nothing dramatic, only the simple pleasure of being exactly where you’re meant to be for a few days.