I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno from Manchester – it was meant to be a straightforward couple of hours, but no, I managed to take a wrong turn near Colwyn Bay and ended up looping through some narrow lanes with sheep giving me the side-eye. Classic me, always relying on sat-nav but forgetting to charge my phone properly. Still, by the time I pulled into Deganwy, the sun was dipping low over the estuary, and I was buzzing with that holiday anticipation – you know, the kind where you imagine cracking open a cold beer and forgetting all about emails.

The place was even better than the pics: an elegantly styled ground floor apartment tucked away in the quiet depths of Deganwy, perfect for a solo traveller like me pretending to be all organised. It’s wrapped in countryside vibes, nicely furnished, and as soon as I stepped in, the open-plan sitting room hit me with its leather sofas and those French doors spilling out to a heart-warming patio. I dumped my bags and beelined for the well-arranged kitchen – glossy counters, everything in its place – dreaming of the feasts I’d whip up. Across the hall, the king-size bedroom was pure calm with fitted mirrored wardrobes and some tasteful wall art that made me feel instantly chilled.

First order of business? Stocking up. There’s a cracking little market in Llandudno just a short drive away – think Orme View Market on the promenade, where stalls overflow with fresh Welsh veg, local cheeses, and those fat, juicy crabs straight from the bay. I grabbed some laverbread (proper Welsh stuff, mind), cockles, new potatoes, and a slab of Caerphilly to grate over everything. Back at the flat, my cooking attempt number one was a heroic fail: I tried poshing up fish and chips with fresh cod from a nearby stall, but the batter went soggy because I got distracted by the view. Laughed at myself over a glass of white from the offy – proper holiday moment, innit? Gentle reminder that I’m no MasterChef, but who cares when you’re eating al fresco on that patio?

Evenings were for pubs, and Deganwy’s got gems within walking distance. The Cromwell in particular – cosy as anything, with locals chatting about the rugby. I had their steak pie one night, flaky pastry hiding tender beef in gravy that stuck to your ribs, washed down with a pint of Conway Brewery’s Welsh Pride. Another day, I wandered into Llandudno for the Palladium area pubs; settled on the King’s Head for a ploughman’s lunch piled high with cheddar, pickle, and bread that could’ve been baked that morning. Markets kept calling me back – I snagged smoked mackerel for breakfast, pan-fried in the kitchen with a bit of lemon, and attempted a rarebit that was more gluey than golden. Self-reflection time: maybe I should’ve paid more attention to Mum’s recipes instead of winging it. Still, scoffing it on the sofa with the doors open to the breeze felt like winning.

Cooked a proper storm on night three: lamb chops from the market, rubbed with rosemary from a nearby farm shop, grilled on the patio while I sipped gin. Paired with those new pots and a salad – bliss. Pub crawls filled the gaps, like the Queens at the top of Mostyn Street for fish pie that’s legendary, all creamy and packed with prawns. Left feeling stuffed and happy, reflecting on how a holiday like this – good food, cracking pints, and a kitchen that doesn’t judge your disasters – recharges the soul. Can’t wait to go back for more.