I’ll never forget the drive over to Anglesey last autumn – the leaves were turning that gorgeous coppery gold, carpeting the A55 like a proper Welsh welcome mat. Me and the family piled into the car from Cheshire, kids buzzing in the back with crisps and iPads, husband navigating as usual. Then, classic us, we hit a massive flock of sheep blocking the road just past Bangor. Twenty minutes of honking and herding later, we were laughing about it, windows down to catch that crisp, sea-salt air that screams October on the island.

Pulling up to the cottage near Pentraeth two miles out, my heart did a little flip – it looked every bit the cosy haven I’d been dreaming of amid the grey skies and rustling winds. This delightful spot, nestled in that bustling village vibe without the noise, hit us with great first impressions: the well-appointed kitchen up front with its stylish units, integrated dishwasher, high ceilings, and a dining area begging for family feasts. We dumped the bags and straight into the large sitting room, curling up on the sofa by the woodburning stove as the evening chill crept in. Three king-size bedrooms upstairs, all with en-suites boasting deluxe fittings – one even had that zip-and-link option for the kids – meant no queuing for the loo at dawn.

Autumn shaped every minute of our stay, turning what could’ve been a soggy weekend into pure magic. Mornings started with mist rolling off the Menai Strait, just a short hop away, so we’d wrap up in scarves and wellies for a brisk walk along Red Wharf Bay. The beach was near-empty, waves crashing under dramatic skies, and we’d skim stones while the wind whipped our cheeks rosy. One afternoon, foraging for blackberries along the lanes near Pentraeth – bushes heavy with fruit thanks to those mild October rains – turned into a purple-stained adventure. The kids thought they were Bear Grylls; I just felt smug baking a crumble back at the cottage, the stove’s glow making the kitchen smell like heaven.

Evenings were for hunkering down as the days drew in early. We’d fire up the woodburner, its crackle drowning out the howls outside, and binge telly with mugs of hot chocolate topped with squirty cream. No rushing about – just that seasonal slowdown, you know? One night, staring at the flames, I had a quiet moment of self-reflection: rushing through life back home, I’d forgotten how restorative this is, letting the island’s moody weather force you to pause and just be. Husband caught me misty-eyed and joked I was turning into a poet; I quipped back he’d hogged the sofa all week.

We popped into Pentraeth village for pasties from the bakery – steaming hot against the nippy air – and a pint at the pub, chatting with locals about the upcoming storms. No need to venture far; everything felt perfectly contained in that five-mile bubble of coastal paths, hidden coves, and fiery foliage. By the time we packed up, windswept and full of memories, I was already plotting a return for next autumn’s bonfire glow. Anglesey in fall? It’s not just a holiday; it’s a reset button disguised as a getaway.