I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – a proper British road trip, complete with dodgy sat-nav directions that had us looping round a one-way system twice before we finally spotted the sea. We’d left Manchester early, hoping to beat the traffic, but no such luck; a cheeky little diversion thanks to roadworks turned what should’ve been two hours into three. Still, as we crested the hill and the bay opened up, all that faff melted away. That first glimpse of the promenade, with its Victorian piers and the Irish Sea sparkling under a patchy Welsh sky, had me grinning like a kid at the fair.

Pulling up to our spot in the heart of town felt like winning the holiday lottery. It’s this cracking duplex apartment, all cosy and modern with a nod to seaside charm – think light-filled rooms that just invite you to flop down. We crossed the threshold, bags in hand, and straight into the sitting room: massive Smart TV with Netflix begging for a binge, sofas that swallowed you whole, and windows letting in that bracing coastal light. Kitchen’s a dream too, stocked with everything you’d need, but honestly, who wants to cook on holiday? The real star, though, is the enclosed garden out back – a proper suntrap, shielded from the promenade bustle, with space for a cheeky barbecue or just lounging with a cuppa.

From that moment, we decided: this was a holiday for doing sod all, and it was bliss. No grand plans, no hiking up Snowdon or whatnot – just lazy days soaking up the joy of slowing right down. Mornings started with brekkie in the garden, me nursing a coffee while the others fiddled with toast. The sea air wafts in, carrying that salty tang, and you can hear the waves crashing just a stone’s throw away. We’d wander five minutes to the beach for a mooch along the sand – Llandudno’s got that wide, flat stretch perfect for paddling if the sun’s out, or building lopsided sandcastles that inevitably topple. Back by noon, though, and it was garden time: feet up on the loungers, cracking open a book I’d been meaning to read for months.

Afternoons blurred into this glorious nothing. I’d lose myself in a thriller, occasionally glancing up to watch the seagulls squabble over chips from the prom. The others rotated between Netflix marathons – we demolished a couple of series – and lazy chats about nothing much. One day, I even managed a nap in the garden, woken only by the neighbour’s cat eyeing me suspiciously. Dinner? Simple stuff whipped up in the kitchen, eaten alfresco as the sun dipped, painting the sky all pink over the bay. No rush, no schedules – just that rare luxury of time stretching out.

Looking back, it was the perfect reset. I’m usually rushing about like a headless chicken at work, but those days in Llandudno taught me the sheer delight of proper idling. The apartment was our little haven, central enough for a beach stroll yet private enough to pretend the world had paused. If you’re after a break where the highlight is a good book, sea views, and zero agenda, this is your spot. We left feeling lighter, already plotting a return.