I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – or rather, the bit where we took a wrong turn just past Conway and ended up on some winding back lane with sheep eyeballing us like we’d gatecrashed their picnic. The kids were in the back, moaning about needing the loo, and I was frantically tapping the sat nav while my other half tried not to laugh. Typical us, turning a two-hour journey into a comedy of errors. But as we finally crested the hill and spotted the sea sparkling ahead, all that stress melted away. Llandudno’s pier poking out like a cheeky invitation – we were buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation.

Pulling up to our spot, we were chuffed to bits. It’s this welcoming first-floor apartment tucked into the heart of the place, all bright and comfy, perfect for our little crew. Stepping inside felt like a hug – straight into a lovely living/dining room that just screams ‘kick off your shoes and chill’. After the drive’s chaos, it was heaven to flop onto the sofa, crack open a brew, and watch the kids claim their corners like tiny dictators.

First impressions? Spot on. We’d picked it for that relaxed family vibe, and it delivered in spades. Mornings kicked off with us faffing about in the kitchen, making a right mess with bacon butties and spilling orange juice everywhere – proper cottage life pandemonium, but the kind that makes you grin. The littlest one decided the dining table was her drum kit, banging away while we pretended it was a symphony.

Venturing out was all about those simple pleasures. A gentle wander down to the promenade, paddling in the shallow waves on North Shore beach, building lopsided sandcastles that the tide cheekily flattened. Llandudno’s got that classic seaside charm – we ambled along the pier, feeding the gulls (much to the kids’ delight and my quiet horror when one dive-bombed my chips). Popped into town for rock from those old-school sweet shops, the air thick with candy floss and laughter. One afternoon, we hired a land train – yes, really – chugging along the front like a daft procession, waving at other families doing the same. Pure joy.

Evenings were the best bit, though. Back at the apartment, we’d rustle up pasta or fish and chips from the local takeaway, then pile into the living room for board games that descended into giggles and mild cheating accusations. I had a quiet moment one night, sat by the window with a cuppa, watching the lights twinkle on the bay. Made me reflect on how these messy, low-key days – the sand in the rug, the half-eaten ice creams – are what recharge the batteries. No grand plans, just us lot soaking up the sea air and each other’s daftness.

The Great Orme loomed temptingly close, so we took the tram up one clear morning – hair whipping in the wind, gasping at the views over the bay. Spotting seals lounging on the rocks below was a highlight; the kids were obsessed, declaring it their best day ever. We even squeezed in a stroll through Happy Valley gardens, picnicking amid the flowers, dodging the odd rogue donkey.

Packing up felt bittersweet, but Llandudno’s left us with that warm glow. It’s the sort of holiday that reminds you life’s about the small stuff – a bit of chaos, heaps of laughter, and coming home smelling faintly of seaside. We’ll be back for more.