I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno from Manchester – it was meant to be a straightforward hour and a half, but no, I took a wrong turn near Colwyn Bay and ended up navigating some narrow lanes that my sat-nav swore were shortcuts. Cue a minor panic when we got stuck behind a flock of sheep being herded by a farmer on a quad bike. Classic British countryside chaos, but we laughed it off, and by the time we pulled into the off-road parking spot outside our detached holiday home near Llanddulas beach, the anticipation had us buzzing. First impressions? Spot on – it looked cosy and inviting from the outside, and stepping in, we found a cracking ground-floor king bedroom with its own en-suite, perfect for flopping after the drive. Upstairs, three more big bedrooms each with en-suites, plus a handy cloakroom and utility room with washer and dryer – ideal for a family like ours with a well-behaved dog in tow.

We’d come for the classic Llandudno pier and prom vibes, but the real magic happened when we ditched the map and let ourselves get properly lost. First hidden gem: stumbling upon the coastal path from Llanddulas towards the Little Orme. We parked up and wandered off, expecting a quick stroll, but ended up on this rugged clifftop trail with views that stopped us in our tracks – seals lounging on rocks below, gulls wheeling overhead, and not a soul around. Felt like we’d gatecrashed paradise.

Next day, aiming for the beach, we veered off down a unmarked track and found ourselves at a pebbly cove tucked under the headland, miles from the tourist crowds. The dog went mental chasing waves, and we picnicked on fish and chips smuggled from a no-frills takeaway in Penmaenmawr. Pure bliss, that – no queues, just the crash of the sea and a thermos of tea.

The best bit came mid-week when rain forced us inland. Instead of the obvious high street, we followed a whim down a side road in Deganwy and discovered this tiny, family-run café hidden behind a newsagent. Proper Welsh cakes, bara brith, and gossip from the locals about secret WWII bunkers nearby. We poked around those crumbling relics later, half-lost in the bracken, feeling like Indiana Jones on a budget. Laugh-out-loud moment: I slipped in the mud trying to pose for a photo, ending up looking like a swamp monster. The kids won’t let me live it down.

Reflecting on it now, that’s the joy of these spots – they sneak up when you’re not looking, turning a standard holiday into something personal. No Instagram hordes, just us, the coast, and those serendipitous finds. Back home, I’m already plotting the next wrong turn. Llandudno’s got more secrets, I’m sure of it.