I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – or rather, the bit just before we arrived. We’d piled into the car in Manchester, full of that holiday buzz, kids in the back chattering about ice creams on the pier, when halfway through the A55, the sat nav decided to have a midlife crisis. It rerouted us down some winding country lane that felt like it hadn’t seen tarmac since the war, and we ended up stuck behind a tractor doing about 10mph. I was gripping the wheel, muttering about being late for check-in, but my other half just laughed and cracked open the crisps. By the time we rolled up, sweaty and a tad frazzled, I was secretly glad for the delay – it forced us to slow right down.

Pulling into the off-road parking at this cosy little holiday cottage in Bryn Pydew, just a mile and a half from Llandudno Junction, my heart lifted. Tucked away in this peaceful village, it had that perfect laid-back vibe we’d been craving. Stepping through the front door into the hall, the carpeted stairs swept us up to the open-plan living space – a well-equipped kitchen begging for lazy brekkies, and a dining area right next door with room for proper chinwags over meals. It felt like instant home, no faffing about.

From that moment, we did bugger all – and it was bliss. Our days melted into this gorgeous rhythm of doing precisely nowt. Mornings started late, faffing in the kitchen with toast and endless cups of tea, peering out at the garden. That garden! A proper suntrap, wildish at the edges with birds flitting about, and just enough lawn for the kids to sprawl with their books while I lounged in a chair, nose in a battered paperback. I’d planned grand walks along the Llandudno promenade or a poke around Conway’s castle walls – they’re only a short drive away, after all – but nah. Who needs it when you’ve got this?

Afternoons blurred into siestas on the sofa, the kind where you wake up with a book on your face and a catnap grin. We’d wander out to the garden for a bit, maybe pick a few herbs for supper, but mostly just sat there, watching clouds drift over the hills. Evenings were for simple suppers at the dining table – pasta or whatever was in the fridge – followed by board games that descended into giggles. No schedules, no rushing. One night, staring at the stars from the garden (clearer than city skies, they were), I had a proper moment. Here I was, mid-40s, always chasing the next thing at work, and this cottage had me reflecting: why don’t I let life slow down more often? It’s the small stuff – the quiet, the shared silences – that recharges you.

By the end of the week, we’d barely left the place, and I didn’t care a jot. Llandudno’s right there if you fancy it, but the real magic was in those lazy cottage days, breathing easy in Bryn Pydew. If you’re after a break to just… be, this is your spot. We drove home grinning, already plotting a return.