We’d been on the road since before dawn, and by the time we finally turned off the A55 towards Abergele my patience was hanging by a thread. The sat-nav, which had been cheerfully bossing us around for hours, suddenly announced we’d “reached our destination” while we were still trundling past a field of slightly damp sheep. After a quick u-turn and a muttered debate about whether the postcode was actually a suggestion rather than an instruction, we spotted the neat little terrace and pulled up outside number six. That was when I realised I’d left the front-door key in the kitchen back home, tucked neatly beside the kettle. My partner didn’t say a word; she simply handed me the spare that had been sitting in the glovebox the entire time.

Once the door finally swung open, the first thing that hit me was the smell of the sea drifting through an open window at the back. The living room was small but bright, with a couple of well-loved sofas and a wood burner that promised cosy evenings later. We dumped our bags and wandered straight through to the little patio, where a table and two chairs looked out over rooftops towards the curve of the bay. Even under a soft grey sky the water looked inviting, and I could just make out the low tide line with its scatter of shells and seaweed.

We decided the sensible thing was a quick stroll to stretch our legs and pick up milk. Five minutes down the lane brought us to the beach, a wide stretch of sand that felt almost private at this time of year. A few dog-walkers nodded hello, and the only sounds were the gentle wash of waves and the occasional cry of gulls wheeling overhead. Back at the cottage we unpacked properly, discovering that the kitchen was surprisingly well stocked with mugs and a kettle that boiled in record time. I made tea while my partner claimed the bigger of the two bedrooms, citing “seniority by virtue of remembering the spare key.”

Sitting on the patio with our mugs, watching the light shift over the water, I found myself thinking how often we race to the next thing without noticing where we’ve actually landed. The journey had been long, the key incident faintly ridiculous, yet here we were, toes sandy, shoulders loosening, already feeling the slow rhythm of the place settle around us.