I finally made it to Barmouth after what felt like the scenic route from Shrewsbury, though not without a classic me moment. About halfway there, I realised I'd left my phone charger at home – typical! Panicking a bit, I pulled into a petrol station near Dolgellau for a quick replacement, which turned the drive into a minor adventure and ate up half an hour. But as we crested the hill into town, with the sun glinting off the Mawddach Estuary, all that stress melted away. Barmouth looked like a postcard – sandy beach curving away, boats bobbing in the harbour, and that fresh sea air hitting you straight on. I was buzzing with anticipation, imagining lazy days ahead.

Pulling up to our holiday spot, right in the heart of this wonderful seaside town on Wales' west coast, we were chuffed to bits with the first impressions. It's a beautiful first-floor apartment, perfect for just the two of us, with a lovely colour scheme throughout that echoes the sea and those lush Welsh hills. Thoughtful décor everywhere, and you're literally a stone's throw from the beach. We let ourselves in through the communal front door, puffing up the stairs (note to self: more hill walks needed), and stepped into this attractive open-plan living space. Soft grey carpet underfoot, a luscious emerald sofa begging you to sink in while flicking on the Smart TV, and those pretty matching dining chairs at a table for two by the bay window. Harbour views for breakfast? Yes please.

From that moment, the whole trip was about doing very little – and it was pure bliss. No grand plans, just slowing right down. Mornings started with a brew on that sofa, watching gulls wheel over the water, maybe dipping into a dog-eared paperback I'd brought along. The other half would potter about, and we'd amble down to the beach for a gentle stroll, toes in the sand, before heading back for elevenses. The joy of it was in the nothing-much: lounging with a cuppa, feet up, letting the world tick by. One afternoon, I spent hours in the garden area downstairs, tucked away with a bit of shade from the sea breeze, reading nonsense novels and nodding off now and then. It's funny how, back home, I'm always rushing – emails, errands, the lot. Here, staring out at the tide coming in, I had this gentle moment of reflection: why don't I make more space for this? Just being, without the guilt.

Lazy lunches at the table by the window – cheese on toast or whatever we rustled up from the local Co-op – followed by more sofa time. We'd wander the promenade if the fancy took us, ice cream in hand from one of those little beach kiosks, but mostly it was about that unhurried rhythm. Evenings meant dimming the lights, a simple pasta, and an old film on the telly, with the harbour lights twinkling outside. No need for pubs or hikes; the simple pleasure of pottering in this cosy spot, with the sea's murmur as background noise, was enough. Barmouth has this magic for recharging without trying. If you're after a romantic coastal escape where doing sod all feels like the height of luxury, this is your spot. We left feeling lighter, already plotting a return for more of the same.