I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – rain lashing the windscreen like it had a personal grudge, and then, just past Conway, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us down a narrow lane that dead-ended at a sheep field. Typical me, hadn’t checked the signal properly. We laughed it off, doubled back, and finally rolled into town as the clouds parted, the sea sparkling like it was rolling out the red carpet. Heart lifting already, I thought, this is going to be spot on.

Pulling up to the apartment block right on the seafront, I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation – you know, the bit where you imagine cosy evenings with fish and chips and not a care in the world. It’s this cracking spot on the fourth floor, sleek and modern with an open-plan lounge that feels dead luxurious, all set up for kicking back with a cuppa while gazing out at the waves crashing below. Perfect for just the two of us, or even solo if you fancy your own space from life’s chaos. There’s a lift, mind, or a back door for anyone not keen on stairs – thoughtful touch, that.

First morning, we wandered out aiming for the pier, but true to form, I took a wrong turn down a side street off the prom, and blimey, what a fluke. Stumbled on this tucked-away café called something like Happy Valley Tea Rooms – not on any map I’d seen – where the owner brews tea strong enough to stand a spoon in and dishes up bara brith that’s still warm from the oven. Hidden gem number one, purely by accident. We got chatting to locals there, who tipped us off about a footpath behind the cricket ground that leads to a secret stretch of beach you’d never spot from the main drag. No crowds, just pebbles, seals bobbing offshore, and that fresh sea air hitting you full force.

That set the tone – we embraced getting lost. Next day, veering off the Great Orme tramway path, we found this little cove called Angel Bay, proper off-the-beaten-track, with rock pools teeming with crabs and anemones. Sat there for hours, skim-reading a book and pondering how I’ve spent too long lately glued to screens back home. Gentle nudge to myself: slow down, yeah? Laughed when a wave snuck up and soaked my trainers – served me right for daydreaming.

Afternoon took us ambling through the back lanes of the West Shore, away from the touristy bustle. Ended up at a minuscule ice cream parlour run by a chap who’s been scooping since the war, they reckon. His knickerbocker glory was a towering, messy delight – we devoured it on a bench overlooking the bay, waves whooshing in. No fancy signs, no TripAdvisor hype; just stumbled upon it after taking a “shortcut” that looped us in circles.

Evenings back at the apartment were bliss, lounge lights low, sea views turning moody purples as the sun dipped. One night, we cooked up a storm in the smart little kitchen, toasting to serendipity. Llandudno’s got that magic if you ditch the map – those accidental finds made it unforgettable. Can’t wait to get lost there again.