I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – rain lashing the windscreen like it had a personal grudge, and then, just past Colwyn Bay, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us down a narrow lane that dead-ended at a sheep farm. Typical me, hadn’t checked the signal, so there we were, reversing into a flock of very unimpressed woollies. A quick U-turn and 20 minutes later, we rolled into town, hearts racing a bit, but oh, what a first glimpse! The promenade stretched out all sparkly under the clearing skies, Victorian piers twinkling, and the sea breeze carrying that salty promise of adventures ahead. I was buzzing already.

We’d booked this gorgeous seaside home, the sort that’s spot-on for family get-togethers – cosy, with enough space for everyone to sprawl out and make memories without tripping over each other. Pulled up, bags in hand, and it felt like stepping into a hug from an old mate: sea views from the windows, that lived-in charm perfect for lazy mornings with brekkie on the go.

But here’s the thing – we didn’t stick to the tourist trail. No, we got properly lost, in the best way, and stumbled on Llandudno’s hidden gems by accident. First day, aiming for a stroll along the prom, we veered off up the Great Orme – not the tramway crowds, mind, but a sneaky path from the back of town near the cable car base. Wandered too far, missed a turning, and ended up at this wild little cove, St Tudno’s Bay or something like that? Empty pebble beach, waves crashing dramatic-like, seals popping up like nosy neighbours. Sat there with flasks of tea, feeling like we’d nicked a private slice of Wales. Laughed about how getting lost beats any guidebook.

Next mishap was even better. Trying to find the pier’s arcade (kids insisted), we took a wrong turn inland, past the posh hotels, and tumbled into the Happy Valley gardens – but not the main bit everyone mobs. Skirted round to this tucked-away glen, overgrown paths leading to a forgotten bandstand with views down to the bay. Picnicked there, proper lush, with goats bleating from the Orme cliffs above. The littluns chased butterflies while we parents flopped on the grass, pondering how daft it is to always chase the obvious spots when these secret ones are right under your nose.

Evenings, we’d mooch out from the house, no map, just vibes. One night, lost again near the West Shore, found this blink-and-you-miss-it stretch of beach where the dunes hide old wartime pillboxes. Clambered inside one at sunset, sea glowing orange, sharing stories till bellies rumbled. Back home for fish and chips on the balcony – bliss.

Reflecting now, sat here with a cuppa, I reckon that’s the magic of a place like this: it rewards the wanderers. We could’ve ticked off the biggies – pier, donkey rides, all that – but getting gloriously lost turned a good holiday into one etched deep. Llandudno’s got secrets if you let it lead you astray. Can’t wait to go back and lose ourselves all over again.