I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno last autumn – the leaves were turning that glorious mix of gold and copper, carpeting the A55 like nature’s own welcome mat. Me and the family piled into the car from Manchester, kids buzzing in the back with crisps and iPads, while I navigated with a dodgy sat-nav that decided to have a mid-journey sulk. We ended up taking a detour through some winding lanes near Colwyn Bay, stuck behind a tractor for what felt like hours, but honestly, it was the perfect mishap. Those crisp October breezes whipping through the half-open windows, the hedgerows heavy with blackberries – it set the tone for a proper seasonal getaway, all cosy and quintessentially Welsh.

Pulling up to the holiday property just as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the farm, I felt that proper flutter of anticipation. What if it wasn’t as charming as the photos? But blimey, first impressions didn’t disappoint. It’s this cracking 16th-century Grade II listed gem on a working farm, with stunning countryside views that screamed ‘escape’. The grounds were alive with cattle ambling about, and stepping inside that grand open-plan living space felt like slipping into a warm hug. Hung our coats on the old saddle hooks, and there it was – everything geared for lazy family nights, from the sleek kitchen kitted out for autumn feasts to the pew-seat dining table perfect for debriefing over mugs of tea.

Autumn shaped every bit of it, didn’t it? Mornings started misty, the fields shrouded in fog that lifted to reveal the farm’s cows chomping on dew-kissed grass. We’d wander the grounds, crunching through fallen leaves, picking windfalls for impromptu apple crumbles – the air so fresh it made you breathe deeper. A short hop to Llandudno’s prom for pier chips wrapped in newspaper, battered by that bracing sea wind, but oh, the joy of it. The season turned the Great Orme into a hiker's dream, gorse blooming gold against rusty bracken; we trudged up there one blustery afternoon, cheeks rosy, rewarded with panoramic views of the bay glittering like fool’s gold under patchy sun.

Evenings were pure magic. As days shortened, we’d hunker down by the inglenook fireplace, flames crackling while outside the wind howled through the valley. Roasted chestnuts, steaming casseroles from the oven, board games till the kids nodded off – it was that rare holiday where the weather nudged us into proper togetherness, no distractions. One night, staring into the fire, I had a quiet moment of reflection: rushing about life back home, we forget how golden these slowdowns are, especially when autumn wraps you in its crunchy embrace. Laughed at myself for moaning about the rain earlier – it just made the hot toddies taste better.

Days out stayed local, like pottering to the high street for Welsh cakes still warm from the griddle, or a gentle stroll along the North Shore where waves crashed under iron skies. The season’s chill sharpened everything – the tang of woodsmoke, the earthy farm smells mingling with briny sea air. By week’s end, as frost nipped the first mornings, we were hooked. Llandudno in autumn? It’s not just a holiday; it’s a full-body reset, farm-fresh and full-hearted. Can’t wait to go back next year.