I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – a proper British road trip, complete with drizzle and a sat-nav that decided to have a mid-journey existential crisis. We were chugging along the A55, me belting out some dodgy karaoke to keep the kids from bickering, when suddenly it rerouted us down a narrow lane that felt more like a sheep’s personal runway. Cue a tense five minutes of reversing past a bemused farmer, but honestly, it just added to the anticipation. By the time we crested the hill and spotted the Great Orme looming like a giant’s headland, I was buzzing – proper holiday vibes kicking in.

Pulling up to this delightful semi-detached cottage on the edge of town, just 1.4 miles from Llandudno’s buzz, we were smitten straight away. Tucked in a quiet residential spot with cracking views over the rooftops to the Orme and the Irish Sea twinkling beyond, it looked like the perfect hideaway. Tastefully done inside, spread over four floors, it’s cosy without being cluttered – just what we needed for switching off. Two staircases whisk you down to a spacious lower ground floor kitchen, all shiny and fitted out, flowing through an archway to a dining area with French doors straight onto the garden. Up top, the light and airy sitting room has an open fire begging for a lazy evening, plus a reading room that’s pure heaven: sofa bed, a piano for any impromptu tinkles, a study nook, and even an exercise bike (which I eyed suspiciously but ignored entirely).

The joy of it all? Doing sod all, really. We’d arrived knackered but grinning, and from that first cuppa in the garden – watching gulls wheel over the sea – it was clear this was our spot to slow right down. Mornings blurred into pottering: me with a book in the reading room, feet up on the sofa bed, while the sun filtered through the windows. The garden became our private oasis – a patch of green framed by those French doors, perfect for sprawling with coffee and biscuits, listening to the distant crash of waves on West Shore beach. No rush to the pier or the tramway up the Orme; instead, lazy lunches in the dining area, fire crackling in the sitting room as rain pattered outside (classic Wales), and the odd gentle pedal on that bike before admitting defeat and cracking open a novel instead.

There was this one moment, staring out at the Orme from the sitting room window, mug in hand, when it hit me – I’m always rushing about back home, aren’t I? Chasing deadlines, lists longer than my arm. Here, time stretched out like toffee. The kids fiddled on the piano (terribly, but enthusiastically), we grazed on homemade suppers from that brilliant kitchen, and evenings melted into board games by the fire. A quick wander to Llandudno’s prom for fish and chips one afternoon – just half a mile away – was the extent of our ‘adventure’, and even that felt like overkill.

It was bliss, that unhurried rhythm. No grand plans, just the cottage wrapping us in its comfy embrace, the sea views whispering ‘relax’, and us finally listening. Can’t wait to go back and do even less.