I finally made it to Llandudno after what felt like the world's most faffing drive from Manchester. We'd set off full of beans, me and my other half, buzzing about a proper Welsh seaside break. But no, typical us – about halfway there, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a detour through some narrow country lanes that wouldn't look out of place in a dodgy horror film. Branches scraping the car, me gripping the wheel like my life depended on it, and her laughing her head off while fiddling with the playlist. "Just follow the signs for the coast," she says. Aye, right – the only sign we saw was for a tractor repair shop. We arrived at Rhos-on-Sea, just a stone's throw from Llandudno, sweaty and arguing over whose fault it was, with the car looking like it'd been mud-wrestling.

Still, as we pulled up to this cracking ground-floor apartment right by the beach, all that chaos melted away. It's the sort of place that's spot on for a couple like us – cosy yet roomy enough if mates tag along – with a terrace barbecue screaming summer evenings and the sea practically lapping at your feet. Stepping inside, I was hit with this instant glow of space and light, like the place was giving us a big hug after our ordeal. The open-plan setup flows dead nice, pulling you straight to the sitting area where a smart TV and electric fire promise lazy nights in, pint in hand. King-size bed in the bedroom? Tick. Sofa bed for extras? Sorted. I dumped the bags and just stood there grinning – first impressions? Bloody brilliant, even if I did nearly trip over the welcome hamper in my haste.

That first afternoon, we shook off the drive with a wander down to Rhos-on-Sea beach, just yards away. The sun was out, waves crashing gentle-like, and we grabbed fish and chips from a chippy that smelled like heaven. Sat on the sand, batter flaking everywhere, watching families with their windbreaks and dogs chasing frisbees – pure bliss. Later, we fired up the barbecue on the terrace as the sun dipped, sizzling sausages and cracking open a couple of cold ones. Me, ever the amateur chef, managed to char half the baps black, which had us in stitches. "That's your signature style," she teased. Fair play, it was a laugh.

Next morning, we nipped over to Llandudno pier – a quick five-minute drive, no detours this time – for candy floss and those dodgy arcade machines that eat your quid coins. The prom was buzzing with day-trippers, and we even spotted the Great Orme in the distance, all misty and grand. Back at the flat, evenings blurred into chill sessions by the fire, bingeing telly with the doors flung open to the sea breeze. It's funny, isn't it? You pack for relaxation, hit every snag on the journey, then land somewhere that just... fits. Made me reflect a bit – life's full of those little cock-ups, but they make the good bits shine brighter. If you're after a no-fuss coastal hideaway, this corner of Conway's got it in spades. Can't wait to go back.