I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – we’d packed the car to the gills with snacks, books, and enough tea bags to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck a wobbly just as we hit the A55. It rerouted us down some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline, convinced we’d end up in a sheep’s front garden. But oh, what a relief when we finally spotted those electric gates swinging open, revealing a detached house nestled in four acres of lush land, with the Great Orme looming like a friendly giant in the distance. First impressions? Pure magic. Ample parking right there, and stepping inside felt like a warm hug – straight into a cosy sitting room with a woodburning stove begging to be lit and Sky TV flickering away.

From that moment, we decided: this holiday was all about doing sod all, and loving every lazy minute of it. No grand plans, no ticking off tourist traps – just us, the garden, and the art of proper slowing down. The first morning, I wandered out with a cuppa, the air crisp and briny from the sea not far off, and plonked myself on a lounger overlooking the fields. The views of the Orme were stunning, all misty tramlines and grazing sheep, but I barely moved except to flick pages in my battered paperback. It was bliss – no emails pinging, no rush, just the rustle of leaves and the odd gull squawking overhead.

The hot tub became our daily ritual, mid-afternoon bubbles under a towel-draped gazebo, watching clouds drift by while the world spun on without us. Evenings were for stoking that stove into a toasty glow, curling up with a blanket and whatever was on telly – rubbish quiz shows mostly, but who cares when you’re sipping mulled wine and feeling the tension melt away? We’d potter in the garden a bit, picking herbs for a simple supper or just lounging on the grass, chatting about nothing much. One day, I caught myself staring at a butterfly for a full five minutes, mesmerised, and had a proper chuckle at how daft that was. When did life get so frantic that noticing a butterfly felt revolutionary?

There was this gentle moment of self-reflection one rainy afternoon, rain pattering on the windows as I nursed a coffee by the stove. I realised I’d been running on fumes back home – always chasing the next thing. Here, in this peaceful spot so close to Llandudno’s buzz yet worlds away, I finally exhaled. We did venture into town once or twice, just a short hop for fish and chips from a greasy spoon or a mooch along the prom, inhaling that sea air and dodging the pier’s arcade lights. But mostly? Sweet nothing. Lazy cottage days like these are what holidays should be – recharging the soul, one slow breath at a time. If you’re after the joy of switching off properly, this is the spot. I’m already plotting a return.