I’ll never forget the drive to Conway – well, Rhos-on-Sea, to be precise. We’d packed the car with enough snacks to feed a small army, but halfway there, just past Chester, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a scenic detour through some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline. A classic me moment: overconfident with the map app, underprepared for Welsh backroads. Still, by the time we rolled into this quiet spot between Colwyn Bay and Llandudno, the sun was dipping low over the coast, and my heart lifted. I could already taste the sea air mixed with chippy aromas wafting from somewhere nearby.

Pulling up to the property, I had that proper holiday buzz – you know, the one where you imagine lazy days ahead without a care. It’s this charming purpose-built modern flat, tucked to the side of a house with its own private entrance, all bright and airy inside with those lovely coastal colours that make you feel instantly chilled. First impressions? Spot on. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of fizz on the outdoor seating as the sky turned pink – pure magic.

But let’s be honest, the real star of our stay was the food. Rhos-on-Sea and the bits of Conway on our doorstep are a proper haven for anyone who loves a good feed without the fuss. First morning, I fancied playing chef in that open-plan kitchen – it’s kitted out nicely, with everything you need. Grabbed some fresh eggs and bacon from the little market in Colwyn Bay (just a short stroll away), plus crusty bread from the bakery stall. My attempt at a full Welsh breakfast was... enthusiastic. The laverbread was a revelation – that salty, oaty mush fried up crisp – but I overdid the black pudding and ended up with a plate that looked like modern art. Laughed it off with cups of strong tea on the patio, breeze blowing in, while my other half politely nibbled. Gentle self-reflection there: I’m more taster than master chef, but holidays are for faffing about, right?

Evenings were pub perfection. The Pen-y-Bryn down the road does the best fish and chips – golden batter, proper mushy peas, and chips so chunky you need a fork. We’d wander back tipsy, flop on the plush seating, and flick on the telly with the patio doors wide open. One night, we hit The Queens in Rhos for a roast – Yorkshire puds like pillows, gravy you could swim in, and local real ale that went down far too easily. Hilarious watching the barman juggle orders while we tucked into crab claws from the specials board; fresh from the coast, no doubt.

Markets were our daily pilgrimage. Colwyn Bay’s one on Wednesdays had stalls groaning under Welsh cheeses, bara brith, and cockles in vinegar – I hoovered up a punnet and regretted nothing. Back at the flat, we’d cobble together picnic suppers: smoked mackerel from the fishmonger, paired with bread and a cheeky bottle of wine. One disastrous barbecue attempt (smoke alarm heroics ensued) taught me that wind off the Irish Sea isn’t ideal for grilling sausages, but we salvaged it with baked beans and a good giggle.

Staying here felt like the perfect base to indulge that foodie side – no grand adventures needed, just brilliant local bites, daft kitchen experiments, and pub crawls on foot. Left with a belly full of memories and a promise to return for more laverbread lessons. What a treat.