I’ll never forget the drive up to Llanrwst – we’d set off from Manchester full of beans, dreaming of Welsh cakes and mountain views, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky traffic jam just past Colwyn Bay. A lorry had decided to have a lie-down across the road, and there we were, me drumming my fingers on the wheel while the kids bickered over the last packet of crisps. Still, by the time we rolled into the heart of the village, the sun was peeking through the clouds, and my heart lifted. What a spot – right by the buzz of local shops and pubs, with that airy promise of the Eryri National Park just a stone’s throw away. I could already picture lazy days ahead, no rush, no fuss.

Pulling up to our first-floor apartment, I had this flutter of anticipation – would it live up to the photos? Blimey, it exceeded them. It’s one of those wonderfully-styled places that feels like a proper home from home, sleek and inviting without trying too hard. Two free parking spaces right outside? Result. We bundled in with the dog, bags tumbling everywhere, and straight away, it was love. The spacious living-dining room welcomed us like an old mate, with a big telly for flicking through films and a sturdy dining table begging for mugs of tea and toast. You can even peer out and spot the market stalls on busy days, all fresh veg and local chatter that makes you fancy knocking up a simple supper.

But honestly, the joy of the whole trip was doing sod all – in the best possible way. We’d talked big about hikes and bike rides into the nearby forests, but instead, we surrendered to proper cottage sloth. Mornings started late, with me nursing a coffee on the balcony, watching the world potter by in Llanrwst. The garden area below was a dream – nothing fancy, just a patch of green with benches and bird song, perfect for sprawling out with a book. I devoured half a detective novel there one afternoon, feet up, dog snoring beside me, while the others dozed inside. No itinerary, no alarms. Lunch was whatever we rustled up from the Co-op down the road – cheese on toast, maybe a bit of that market produce if we felt energetic. Afternoons blurred into siestas, a wander to the pub for a pint (non-alcoholic for me, driving and all), then back for more reading as the light faded over Conway Valley.

There was this one moment, sat in that garden as dusk settled, when I caught myself just… stopping. Life back home’s a whirlwind of deadlines and to-do lists, but here? It was like hitting pause. I reflected on how daft it is to pack every holiday with ‘adventures’ when the real magic is slowing right down, breathing in the quiet. The kids sketched in their notebooks, hubby fiddled with a podcast, and we all felt properly recharged. No epic tales to tell the mates, just pure, unhurried bliss. If you’re after a Welsh getaway that’s more hygge than hike, this is your spot. We’re already plotting a return – traffic jam and all.