I’ll never forget the drive up to Beaumaris last summer – me behind the wheel, kids in the back bickering over crisps, and the sat-nav deciding to have a mid-journey meltdown just as we hit the A55. We ended up looping round some cheeky little roundabout three times before it spat us out towards Anglesey, but honestly, by then we were laughing about it. The anticipation built as the Menai Strait came into view, that shimmering stretch of water promising proper seaside vibes. Pulling up to the seafront spot felt like winning the holiday lottery – first impressions? Phenomenal. The place is this delightful apartment tucked away up two flights of stairs that open straight into the quirkiest, cosiest living area you could dream of, with jaw-dropping views across the strait to the Snowdonia peaks. It’s got three bedrooms – a cracking king-size double (we had it as a superking, bliss), a twin with its own ensuite, and a fun bunk room that had the little ones giggling before we’d even unpacked.

But let’s be honest, the real joy of the whole trip was doing sod all. After years of manic holidays – theme parks, endless queues, you know the drill – this was our deliberate slowdown. We’d flop into that living area first thing, brew a pot of tea, and just stare out the windows. The seafront’s right there, waves lapping lazily, yachts bobbing about, and those mountains hazy in the distance. It’s the kind of view that makes you forget your to-do list back home. Mornings were for lounging with a book; I devoured two paperbacks in three days, feet up, occasionally yelling at the kids to stop wrestling on the bunks and come admire a passing seal (or was it a log? Who cares).

The garden down below was our secret weapon for ultimate laziness. It’s a sunny little patch overlooking the strait, perfect for stretching out on picnic blankets with fish and chips from the chippy a five-minute stroll away. We’d play the odd game of cards, but mostly it was nodding off in the warmth, waking to the sound of gulls. No grand plans – just ambling down to Beaumaris pier for ice creams, watching the world go by from a bench, or popping into town for pasties and a gawp at the castle’s outline. The kids built sandcastles on the beach right by the property, then retreated for bunk-bed naps. Evenings? Cosy dinners in, fairy lights twinkling, more reading by the window as the sun dipped behind the mountains.

There was this one gentle moment of self-reflection on day two, sprawled in the garden with a cuppa, watching the tide roll in. I caught myself thinking, ‘Blimey, when did I last just sit?’ Work stress, school runs – it all felt miles away. This holiday wasn’t about ticking boxes; it was permission to breathe, to let the days blur into one long, happy haze. If you’re after heart-of-the-action family exploring without the exhaustion, this is it. We left fatter, happier, and already plotting a return. Pure magic.