I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno this past autumn – the leaves were turning that gorgeous coppery gold, carpeting the roads like nature’s own welcome mat. Me and the missus piled into the car from Manchester, full of that fizzy anticipation you get before a proper getaway. But typical me, I missed the turning for the A55 and ended up on some winding back lane, stuck behind a tractor trundling along at snail’s pace. We were laughing by the end of it, though – what’s a holiday without a daft little mishap to kick things off?

By the time we rolled into the Conway Valley, the sun was dipping low, painting the hills in that soft, amber light that only October seems to muster. We’d booked this beautiful Edwardian country house set in peaceful grounds, right in the wee village of Llanbedr y Cennin – St Peter’s among the daffodils, they call it, though the daffs were long gone and it was all about the autumn blaze instead. First impressions? Blimey, it was love at first sight. The house had this warm, lived-in charm, like stepping into a hug from an old friend, with the valley views stretching out misty and magical through the windows.

Autumn shaped every bit of our stay, turning the ordinary into something properly special. Mornings started with mist clinging to the fields like a cosy blanket, and we’d brew up in the kitchen, watching deer pick their way through the grounds. No rush to be anywhere – that’s the joy of a place like this. We’d wander the short paths around the village, crunching through fallen leaves that smelled of earth and bonfires, the air crisp enough to pink your cheeks but not so biting you couldn’t enjoy it. One day, we ambled over to the nearby Tal-y-Bont hall for a community harvest supper – nothing fancy, just locals tucking into roast tatties and apple crumble, with yarns about the artists who once flocked here in the late 1800s. Felt like we’d slipped into a watercolour painting ourselves.

Afternoons were for gentle rambles along the Conway River trails, no more than a couple of miles from the door, where the trees arched overhead in a fiery tunnel. The seasonal shift meant fewer crowds, just us and the odd dog-walker, spotting fungi popping up like hidden treasures under the bracken. Back at the house, we’d light the fire (proper logs, none of that fake stuff) and crack open a bottle, listening to the wind rustle the branches outside. One evening, as the sky bruised purple with that early dusk, I caught myself staring out, thinking how daft it is we don’t make more time for this – proper unplugging, letting the season slow you right down.

Even the little things shone brighter because of the time of year: blackberries ripe for picking on the hedges (though I ate more than made it to the crumble), and that golden hour light turning the valley into a postcard. Sure, the weather threw a couple of showers – horizontal rain that had us dashing back giggling – but it just made the sunny spells feel like gifts. By the time we packed up, hearts full and wellies muddy, I was already plotting a return. If you’re after a holiday that lets autumn wrap around you like a favourite jumper, this neck of the woods in Llandudno’s shadow is pure magic.