I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno this past autumn – the leaves were turning that gorgeous coppery gold, carpeting the A55 like nature’s own welcome mat. Me and the missus had piled the car with wellies, a couple of bottles of decent red, and our two daft Labradors, who were already panting with excitement. But about halfway there, disaster struck: a rogue flock of sheep decided to stage a sit-in right across the road near Conway. We sat idling for what felt like ages, engines rumbling, while the farmer herded them back with his crook and a lot of good-natured Welsh swearing that made us chuckle. “Typical,” I said to Sarah, “can’t even get to our holiday without a proper farmyard hold-up.” By the time we rolled up, the late afternoon sun was dipping low, casting this magical pinkish glow over everything, and all that anticipation melted into pure relief.

Pulling into the off-road parking spot, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. This place is a proper coastal gem, tucked near the beach with Eryri National Park peeking in the distance – you could almost taste the sea air mixed with that crisp, autumnal chill. It’s the sort of large, welcoming house that screams family getaway or mates’ escape, with en-suites dotted about, a cracking games room for rainy afternoons (which we’d soon need), and – get this – a bubbling hot tub out back that became our saviour against the seasonal bite. The dogs went mental, tails wagging like windscreen wipers, as we stepped inside to a spacious kitchen-diner that smelled faintly of fresh bread from whoever last stayed. We cracked open a bottle straight away, gathering round the big table to plan amid the clatter of unpacking, while the sitting room next door beckoned with its Smart TV and electric fire already flickering warmly.

Autumn shaped every bit of it, really. Mornings started with frosty beach walks along Colwyn Bay’s sands – the tide pulling back to reveal these shimmering pools, gulls wheeling overhead, and not a soul in sight bar a few hardy dog-walkers. We’d crunch through fallen leaves on the short stroll to the prom, grabbing fish and chips from a chippy that wrapped them extra hot against the bracing wind. One day, we wandered over to Llandudno’s pier, the air alive with that salty tang sharpened by woodsmoke from beachside fires. The season’s mellow light made the Victorian pier look like something out of a postcard, and we munched doughnuts while feeding the donkeys – yes, they’re still there, plodding along for the odd tourist snap.

Evenings were pure bliss, huddled in the hot tub as dusk fell early, steam rising into the starry sky, dogs snoozing nearby. The games room saw us battling it out on the table football till our sides hurt from laughing, then collapsing by the fire with Netflix and takeaways. There was this one quiet moment, though, staring out at the darkening sea from the lounge window, pint in hand. I caught myself thinking how the shorter days and that golden haze had slowed us right down – no rushing about, just proper unwinding. In summer, it’d be all sun-lounging and crowds, but autumn? It wrapped you in this cosy, reflective bubble, reminding you why you needed the break. We left feeling utterly recharged, already plotting a return when the leaves are fresh again. What a spot.