I’ll never forget the drive up to Porthmadog – what should’ve been a straightforward jaunt from Cheshire turned into a comedy of errors thanks to Sat Nav’s sudden rebellion. Picture this: me, white-knuckling the wheel as it cheerily directs us down a narrow lane that dead-ends at a sheep-dotted field. “Recalculating,” it chirps, while I’m reversing back up a hill with a caravan of impatient locals honking behind. We’d packed the car like Tetris pros – cool box wedged between the kids’ legs, dog’s lead tangled in the boot – but by the time we spotted the harbour glinting in the distance, we were all a bit frazzled, singing along to the radio to keep tempers in check.

Finally rolling into town, hearts pounding with that mix of exhaustion and excitement, we found the off-road parking spot right away. Thank goodness for that – no circling like vultures. It’s a first-floor apartment, you see, pet-friendly and perched just near the beach, with these jaw-dropping views over the harbour and those rugged mountains that make North Wales feel like a postcard. We raced up the steps, me lugging the heaviest bag like a pack mule, the dog yapping at my heels, and burst through the door. First impressions? Blimey, it was love at first sight. The living/dining room opened up like a cosy hug, all welcoming and lived-in, perfect for kicking off muddy wellies after a day out.

We dumped our stuff and just stood there, grinning like idiots at the panorama – boats bobbing in the estuary, Traeth beach stretching out below, and those peaks hazy in the afternoon sun. The kids immediately claimed the sofa, dog flopped on the rug, and I nipped to the bathroom to splash water on my face while the washer/dryer hummed into action with our travel-stained clothes. Kitchen was a dream too – fridge stocked with our goodies, electric hob ready for action. We rustled up fish and chips from a local spot down the road (proper proper ones, wrapped in paper), and ate at the table gazing out at the view, the mishaps of the journey melting away.

It got me reflecting a bit, sat there with a cuppa as the sun dipped. Holidays like this remind you life’s too short for perfect plans – it’s the chaos that makes the good bits shine. Next morning, we wandered to the beach for a bracing dog walk, skimmed stones on the estuary, then trundled over to the nearby harbour for ice creams and a peek at the steam trains chuffing off to places like Blaenau Ffestiniog. Evenings were for lazy dinners whipped up on the hob – pasta one night, microwave mug cakes for pud – all while watching the mountains turn pink. No grand adventures beyond a gentle stroll to Black Rock Sands, but that’s the joy of it: a proper coastal bolt-hole where you unwind, recharge, and laugh at your own daft arrival antics. Can’t wait to go back.