We’d barely left the M56 when the satnav decided to send us on a scenic detour through every roundabout in North Wales. By the time we finally pulled up outside 9 Beckett Close, the kids were bickering in the back and I was muttering about “just one more turn.” The cottage looked exactly as the photos promised: a neat little semi tucked at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, with a tidy front garden and a promising glimpse of sea between the rooftops.

The first surprise came when I tried the key. It wouldn’t budge. After a minute of jiggling and a muttered lecture from my other half about “lefty-loosey,” the door finally swung open to reveal a bright, open-plan living space with squashy sofas and a dining table already set for four. The faint smell of fresh bread drifted from the kitchen, and someone had left a handwritten note wishing us “a lovely stay by the shore.”

We dumped the bags and wandered straight through to the back garden. A short path led to a wooden gate, and beyond that lay the promenade and the wide sweep of Colwyn Bay beach. The tide was out, leaving a vast stretch of damp sand dotted with families flying kites and dogs chasing tennis balls. The kids were in wellies before I could finish unpacking the car, and I found myself standing there in socks, watching them race towards the water with the sort of uncomplicated joy that makes you forget the satnav drama entirely.

Back inside, the kettle went on while we explored the rest of the cottage. Upstairs, two modest bedrooms and a bathroom with a proper tub promised easy bedtime routines, and the living room’s big window framed a view of the sea that kept pulling us back for another look. We ate fish and chips from the kiosk on the front, sitting on a bench as the light faded and the pier lights flicked on in the distance.

Later, once the children were asleep, I stepped out for a final breath of sea air. The street was quiet, just the soft hush of waves and the occasional laugh from another open window. Standing there in the cool evening, it struck me how little we’d needed beyond a kettle, a beach, and somewhere comfortable to land after the journey. Sometimes the simplest escapes turn out to be the ones that actually stick.