I’ll never forget the drive up to Kinmel Bay – what should’ve been a straightforward jaunt from Manchester turned into a proper comedy of errors. Sat nav decided to play silly buggers halfway through, rerouting us down some narrow B-road that felt like it hadn’t seen daylight since the war. Then, just as we hit the A55, the heavens opened, and I’m there squinting through the windscreen like a pensioner at the optician’s, while my other half clutches the map (yes, a paper one – we’re old school like that). We arrived at Golden Sands resort in Conway a good half-hour later than planned, soaked to the skin and laughing like loons, but honestly, that little chaos only ramped up the anticipation. Pulling into the site, I could already spot the sea peeking through the dunes, and my heart did a little flip – holidays, here we come!

The property itself? A cracking luxury modern two-bedroom caravan, all sleek lines and cosy vibes, plonked right in the heart of this ever-popular resort. First impressions? Bloody brilliant – or rather, spot on from the off. We tumbled through the door, dripping puddles everywhere, and were hit with this airy open-plan living space that smelled faintly of fresh linen and sea salt. Big windows framed the dunes and that endless stretch of Rhyl Bay beach, and the kitchen was kitted out better than ours at home – shiny hob, massive fridge, even a Nespresso machine that had me grinning like an idiot. “This is posh camping,” I quipped to Sarah, dumping our bags and immediately brewing up. The bedrooms were a dream too: plush beds, crisp white duvets, and en-suites that meant no queueing for the loo at dawn.

That first afternoon, after hanging our soggy coats and scoffing a quick sarnie, we wandered straight out to the sands. Kinmel Bay’s beach is a belter – wide, sandy, and practically empty even in peak season, with the waves rolling in gentle enough for a paddle without turning blue. We kicked off our shoes and let the kids (well, our two teens who pretend they’re too cool for it) build epic sandcastles while we mooched along, spotting dog walkers and the odd kite surfer catching the breeze. The mishap from the journey melted away; this place had that instant magic, pulling you in with its unpretentious charm.

Later, we fired up the caravan’s patio BBQ – yeah, it even had one – and grilled some local sausages from the site shop, washed down with a cold cider as the sun dipped low. Sat there, toes still sandy, I had a proper moment of self-reflection. Life’s been a whirlwind lately with work and the daily grind, and I’d forgotten how good it feels to just switch off, mishaps and all. No signal stressing over emails, just us, the sea, and a sky turning pink over the bay. We even nipped over to the resort’s arcade for a quick round of 2p machines – lost a fiver in five minutes, but the neon lights and whoops of joy made it priceless.

By bedtime, snuggled in that comfy caravan haven, I was already plotting tomorrow: a stroll to Towyn for ice creams, maybe a dip in the on-site pool if the weather plays ball. Arriving in a flap made the whole thing sweeter – first impressions don’t get much better than this slice of Welsh seaside bliss. Can’t wait to go back.