I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday spot near Barmouth – we’d been looking forward to it for weeks, imagining lazy days by the sea with nothing on the agenda but a good book and a cuppa. The sat-nav had other ideas, though. About halfway along the twisty A496, it decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a wild detour through some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a rollercoaster. We ended up at a dead end with nothing but sheep staring us down, laughing at our city slicker ways. A quick u-turn, a bit of map faffing, and we were back on track, arriving just as the sun dipped low over the hills. That little mishap only ramped up the anticipation – by the time we wound up that driveway, hearts were racing with proper excitement.

First impressions? Blimey, they hit like a warm hug. Perched high above Harlech with those endless sea views rolling out towards the golf course and the rugged Eryri mountains, it felt like we’d stumbled into our own private slice of paradise. The place is this cracking mix of old-school charm and spot-on modern touches – think cosy nooks perfect for flopping down, and a garden that begs you to linger. We’d booked it for the family, dogs included, and it welcomed us all with open arms. Unpacking took about five minutes; the rest was pure bliss.

The joy of it all was doing sod all, really. No grand plans, no rushing about – just slowing right down. Mornings started with brekkie on the terrace, mugs of tea steaming as we watched gulls wheel over the bay. The garden became our kingdom: sprawling lawn for the dogs to chase shadows, hammocks swaying gently for me to swing in with a paperback. I devoured three novels that week, losing hours to tales of adventure while the real one unfolded outside – waves crashing faintly below, mountains standing sentinel. Afternoons blurred into siestas; one day I swear I nodded off mid-chapter, waking to find the kids (and husband) similarly sprawled, looking more relaxed than they had in months.

We did venture out once or twice, just a short stroll to the beach at low tide for a bit of pebble-skipping and ice creams from the van near the dunes. But mostly, it was garden lounging, barbecues as the sun set (with the dogs snaffling any stray sausages), and evenings with board games by the fire. No Wi-Fi temptation, just us reconnecting. Made me reflect, sat there one dusky evening with a GandT in hand, how often we pack our lives silly back home. Here, in this elevated haven, time stretched out lazy-like, reminding me that the best holidays are the ones where you achieve precisely nowt – and feel utterly brilliant for it. We’re already plotting a return.