I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – our sat-nav decided to throw a proper wobbly just as we hit the A55, rerouting us through some cheeky little back lanes that felt like they hadn’t seen daylight since the Victorians. Me, behind the wheel, swearing under my breath (well, muttering mostly), while my mate Dave in the passenger seat clutched the crisps like a lifeline, and the kids in the back bickered over who got the last Haribo. We’d left Manchester full of beans, buzzing about a proper seaside getaway in Conway, but by the time we spotted the sea glinting ahead, we were frazzled. One wrong turn had us circling a one-way system twice, and I nearly clipped a pensioner on a mobility scooter – heart in my mouth moment that had us all giggling nervously afterwards.

Pulling into the off-road parking spot felt like striking gold after that chaos. There it was, this cracking first-floor apartment smack in the centre of bustling Llandudno, the kind of place that screams 'holiday sorted' without any faff. We grabbed our bags, the kids legging it up the stairs ahead of us like they’d been cooped up for weeks (which they had), and pushed through the private entrance. Blimey, what a first impression – straight into this stylish sitting room that just wrapped you up like a warm hug. Plonked down on that leather sofa, feet up, Smart TV flickering on with some rubbish daytime telly, and suddenly the drive’s stresses melted away. We were proper here, weren’t we? Beach within spitting distance, promenade calling, and a load of eateries just a wander away.

Next door, the kitchen had us grinning like idiots – those dark navy cupboards and wooden worktops giving it a trendy vibe, with this fab statement wallpaper that made it feel dead cosy. The fold-away dining table was genius; we rustled up beans on toast (post-drive gourmet, obviously) and clinked mugs to our escape. The kids were already plotting beach sandcastles, and Dave and I eyed up the pier from the window – Llandudno’s proper old-school charm, with its trams trundling up the Great Orme and fish and chips wafting from every corner.

That first evening, we strolled the promenade as the sun dipped, dodging seagulls with chips in their beaks – classic. Popped into a chippy for battered sausage and mushy peas, then wandered back, bellies full, watching the lights twinkle on the bay. Sat there later, feet up again, planning tomorrow’s antics: maybe the cable cars up the Orme for those mad views, or just paddling at North Shore Beach till our toes went numb. It hit me then, in a quiet moment on that sofa, how I’d been grafting non-stop back home, head down, missing these simple joys. Holidays like this? They’re the reset button we all need – a reminder to chuck the to-do list and just breathe in the sea air.

By bedtime, with the kids zonked out and the sound of waves humming through the window, I knew we’d nailed it. Messy arrival and all, this spot’s got the lot – perfect for us lot, four of us fitting like a glove. Can’t wait to come back and do it all over again.