We’d barely made it out of the car park when the first spot of rain landed on my nose, and then my phone decided to leap from my coat pocket straight into a puddle. Brilliant start. Penholm sat just back from the beach path in Llandudno, its whitewashed walls glowing even under the low cloud, and we dragged our cases inside while trying not to laugh too loudly at my soggy screen.

The forecast had promised a warm afternoon for our first coastal walk, so once the phone had been dried on a tea towel we laced up our boots and headed out along the wide promenade. The tide was out, leaving long stretches of damp sand that squeaked underfoot, and we followed the path that curves past the paddling pool and up towards the little headland. Every few minutes the sun would break through, warming our shoulders, only to be chased away again by another quick shower; we spent more time pulling jackets on and off than actually walking.

Halfway along the cliff edge we stopped to watch a small flock of oystercatchers darting over the rocks, and it struck me how often our plans in Wales hinge on these sudden shifts in weather. We’d meant to keep going all the way round to the next bay, but the clouds thickened and a sharp breeze whipped up from the sea, so we turned back early, stopping at a bench to share a slightly squashed flapjack while the rain passed over.

Back at Penholm the kettle was soon on, and we watched families still braving the beach below, children building sandcastles between showers. It felt oddly comforting to be cosy indoors after only an hour outside, and I found myself thinking how little control we ever have over a Welsh summer day. Still, the short walk had left us pleasantly tired, and already the cottage felt like the perfect base for whatever the coast decided to offer next.