I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – rain lashing the windscreen like it had a personal grudge, and me taking a wrong turn onto some narrow lane that had us convinced we’d end up in a field. But we laughed it off, cranked up the radio, and before long, the sea came into view, sparkling under patchy skies. Pulling up to our second-floor apartment in the heart of town, I felt that proper holiday buzz – you know, the one where you’re already plotting your first pub crawl before you’ve even unpacked.

First impressions? Spot on. It’s one of those stylish spots perfect for a couple, all open-plan with a kitchen that screamed “cook something lush tonight”. We dumped the bags and headed straight out, stomachs rumbling. Llandudno’s got this brilliant vibe for foodies – proper seaside grub without the tat. Our first stop was the pier, not for the arcade nonsense, but to grab fish and chips from a no-frills kiosk. Crispy batter, mushy peas on the side, eaten on a bench with gulls eyeing us up. Heaven.

Back at the flat that evening, I fancied playing chef. The kitchen’s got an electric oven and hob that worked a treat – none of that faffing about with dodgy gas. I rustled up a pasta carbonara using stuff from the local market we’d spotted on the way in. Markets here are gold; there’s one just down the road most days, stalls piled high with fresh veg, Welsh cheeses that could make you weep, and cockles straight from the bay. Mine turned out a bit gluey – I blame the rain for distracting me – but we scoffed it at the dining table with a bottle of red, toasting to no kids or deadlines.

Next morning, we hit the pubs. The King’s Head round the corner does a cracking full English – black pudding that melts in your mouth, bacon crisp as you like. We lingered over coffee, people-watching the promenade strollers. Lunch was at a cosy café on Mostyn Street, devouring crab sandwiches with proper seaside views. Afternoon? A wander to the Orme for a pint at the Great Orme Tavern – their fish pie’s legendary, all creamy mash and flaky white fish. I managed seconds, naturally.

Evenings blurred into more of the same, in the best way. One night, I tried my hand at a curry in the kitchen, inspired by spices from the market. Disaster – too much chilli, tears and giggles ensued. We abandoned ship for the Palladium pub nearby, where the steak and ale pie sorted us out. Reflecting on it now, sat on the balcony with tea and bara brith from a bakery down the street, I realised this trip was less about grand adventures and more about savouring the simple stuff. The joy of faffing in a well-kitted kitchen, stumbling on hidden eateries, and letting meals dictate the day. Llandudno’s food scene snuck up on us – unpretentious, hearty, and utterly addictive. If you’re after a romantic bolt-hole where eating’s the main event, this is your spot. We’re already plotting a return.