I’ll never forget the drive over to Anglesey – we’d packed the car to the brim with beach towels, snacks, and enough books to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky little detour through some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline. A sheep decided to photobomb our progress by strolling right in front of us, forcing an emergency stop that sent the crisps flying. Typical, eh? But as we finally crested the hill into Benllech, the sparkle of that Blue Flag beach hit us like a tonic, and all was forgiven. Pulling up to our spot – a sleek, newly-built three-storey contemporary place right in the heart of the village – I felt that proper holiday buzz. Off-road parking for three cars? Sorted. And there, tucked to the side, was the sheltered hot tub winking at us like it knew we’d need it after the drive.

First impressions? Blimey, it was spot on. Panoramic views straight out to the beach, Red Wharf Bay shimmering in the distance, and even a glimpse of the Eryri mountains on a clear day. Perfect for a family or group of six, but honestly, we weren’t here to conquer the world. No, this trip was all about doing bugger all – and it was bliss.

We’d wander down to the beach maybe once a day, toes in the sand, but mostly it was lazy cottage days that stole the show. Mornings kicked off with brekkie on the balcony, coffee in hand, watching dog-walkers and families paddle about below. Then it was straight to the garden – that private little haven with the hot tub bubbling away. I’d sink into a lounger with a dog-eared paperback (mine was some cracking thriller I’d been saving), while the others did the same or fiddled with a podcast. No schedules, no rush. Lunch was whatever we rustled up from the local shops – fresh bread, cheese from the Benllech deli, maybe a pasty if we felt adventurous. Afternoons blurred into siestas; one day I nodded off under a brolly for three hours solid, waking up to the sound of waves and feeling like a new man.

There’s something magic about slowing right down in a place like this. No hiking marathons or tourist traps – just the joy of being. One evening, as the sun dipped low over the bay, I hopped into the hot tub with a cold beer, jets massaging away the week’s stresses. The kids (well, young adults, really) were splashing about, laughing at nothing much. I caught myself thinking, ‘This is it, isn’t it? Proper living.’ We’d stayed busy before on holidays, ticking off castles and coasteering, but here? The real treat was the nothing. A gentle nudge to reflect: life’s too short not to savour these idle moments.

By the end of the week, we’d barely scratched the surface of Anglesey’s coastal paths or village pubs, but who cared? We left fatter in the soul, lighter in the mind, already plotting a return to do even less. If you’re after that rare holiday where recharging trumps rushing, this is your spot.