We’d been on the road for nearly five hours when the satnav decided to play its favourite trick, sending us down a lane so narrow the wing mirrors practically kissed the hedges. By the time we reversed out and found the right turning for Kinmel Bay, I was convinced the holiday had already started without us. The satnav, of course, remained smugly silent.

Pulling up outside Golden Sands Kinmel Bay Holiday Accommodation 17918, the first thing that struck me was how close the sea felt. Even before we’d unpacked a single bag, I could hear the gentle hush of waves just beyond the low dunes. The cottage itself looked exactly like the photos—neat, white-rendered, with a little paved patio that caught the late-afternoon sun. A couple of stripy deckchairs were already waiting, as if they’d known we were running late.

Our neighbour popped her head over the fence to say hello while I was still wrestling with the key safe. Apparently the code had changed since the last guests, and I spent an embarrassing minute tapping in the old numbers before the lock finally clicked. Inside, everything smelled faintly of fresh linen and the sea. The living room was small but cosy, with a big window that framed a slice of beach and the distant pier lights beginning to twinkle.

We left the bags by the door and wandered straight out again, shoes kicked off on the warm sand. The tide was on its way in, and families were packing up windbreaks and half-eaten picnics. A few teenagers were still braving the water on bodyboards, shrieking every time a wave caught them. I felt that familiar mix of holiday relief and slight guilt—relief that we’d finally arrived, guilt that I’d spent most of the drive grumbling about traffic instead of looking forward to this.

Back at the cottage, the patio proved perfect for a first-night cuppa. From our seats we could watch dog-walkers trailing leads along the shoreline and the occasional fishing boat chugging past. The air carried that unmistakable mix of salt, chips and distant candyfloss from the arcades further along the front. It already felt like we belonged here, even if the satnav still hadn’t apologised for the detour.

As the light faded, I found myself thinking how strange it is that the best bits of a holiday often start with the smallest disasters. If the lane hadn’t gone wrong, we might never have noticed how quickly the sea air settles you.