I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno last autumn – the leaves were turning that glorious coppery gold, carpeting the A55 like nature’s own welcome mat. Me and the missus had been buzzing with anticipation for weeks, dreaming of cosy nights in after bracing walks along the North Wales coast. But typical me, I took a wrong turn just past Colwyn Bay, ending up in some cheeky little loop that had us laughing (and me swearing under my breath) for a good 20 minutes. Still, it gave us a sneak peek of the fiery foliage hugging the hills, which somehow made the delay feel like a bonus.

Finally rolling into that quiet cul-de-sac in Rhos-on-Sea, less than a mile from the village heart, we were smitten straight away. This lovely ground-floor apartment in the owners’ detached home looked like a proper hug from the season – all warm and inviting with autumn’s soft light filtering through the windows. No stairs to lug cases up, which was a godsend after our detour, and it screamed homely comfort from the off. We dumped our bags and cracked open a brew in the well-equipped kitchen, perched at the central island while plotting our days amid the crisp, sea-tinged air drifting in.

That first evening, with the flame-effect gas fire flickering away, we sank into the sitting room’s plush sofas, the large flat-screen TV humming with some rubbishy film we pretended to watch. Outside, the October chill was sharpening, turning the residential streets into a peaceful haven – no crowds, just the rustle of leaves and distant waves from the picturesque coastline. It was pure bliss after the summer hordes; the season stripped everything back to its cosy essence, making even a simple cuppa feel indulgent.

The next few days were shaped entirely by that autumn magic. We wandered the short stroll to Rhos-on-Sea’s promenade, where the wind whipped up proper sea spray, nipping at our cheeks as gulls wheeled overhead against bruised skies. The prom was dotted with families wrapping up against the breeze, and we grabbed fish and chips from a hut that steamed up the windows – greasy perfection on a blustery afternoon. One morning, we ambled to the nearby beach, boots crunching golden leaves mixed with sand, collecting conkers from the horse chestnut trees lining the paths. No baking heat to contend with, just that invigorating nip that made every step feel alive.

A highlight was a gentle hike up the Little Orme, barely two miles from the apartment – the views over Colwyn Bay were stunning, with the sea a moody slate grey and bracken glowing russet on the cliffs. We picnicked in a sheltered spot, the season’s mellow sun peeking through just enough to warm our faces. Back home, the spacious apartment wrapped us up like a favourite jumper; dinners at the dining table by the fire, chatting about the day’s finds – a crab claw here, a perfect pebble there.

Looking back, that quiet time of year forced a bit of reflection on me. Amid the whirlwind of life, there’s something profoundly grounding about autumn’s slowdown – no frantic beach rushes, just space to breathe, connect, and let the coast’s rhythms sink in. It turned a simple holiday let into a proper reset. If you’re after that same seasonal charm, get yourself there in the fall; you won’t regret it.