I’ll never forget the drive up to Ruthin – we’d set off from Cheshire full of beans, sandwiches packed and the dog bouncing in the back, only for the sat-nav to chuck a wobbly just past Wrexham. It rerouted us down some narrow lane that felt more like a sheep’s personal runway, and we ended up doing a three-point turn in a puddle the size of a small lake. Laughed our heads off, though, and by the time we crested the hill into town, the anticipation was buzzing. Ruthin looked proper inviting in the late afternoon sun, all higgledy-piggledy streets and that cosy Welsh charm.

Pulling up to the end-terrace house, my first impressions were spot on – it’s got this fantastic spot, dead central but peaceful, with the Clwydian hills looming like a promise of adventure (though we weren’t in a rushing mood). Stepped through the beautifully tiled hallway into a gorgeous interior that screamed luxury without trying too hard. The kitchen’s a dream, all stylish and kitted out, perfect for knocking up a simple brekkie or a lazy supper at the dining table for four. Pet-friendly too, which was a godsend for our daft spaniel.

But honestly, the joy of the whole stay was doing sod all – properly switching off, you know? No grand plans, just sinking into that slow, syrupy pace of cottage life. Mornings kicked off with a potter in the garden, mug of tea in hand, watching the birds flit about while the dog chased shadows. It’s a cracking little spot out there, sheltered and sunny, ideal for sprawling on a lounger with a book. I must’ve got through half a detective novel that first day, only breaking off to chuck a ball for the pup or snag a biscuit from the kitchen.

Afternoons blurred into the same blissful nothing. We’d wander five minutes to the high street for a paper and a pasty from the local bakery – Ruthin’s got those proper independents that make you feel like you’ve stumbled into a hug – then back for more garden lounging. One day, I caught myself just staring at the clouds drifting over the Horseshoe Pass in the distance, not even bothering to hike it. Felt a bit daft at first, like I should be out conquering peaks, but then I thought, nah, this is the point. In the rat race back home, I’m always chasing my tail – emails, deadlines, the lot. Here? Time stretched out like warm fudge. No guilt, just contentment.

Evenings were pure indulgence: firing up the kitchen for a simple pasta, windows open to the twilight, then curling up with a film or another chapter. The house wrapped around us like a favourite jumper – comfy, welcoming, everything geared for families or couples like us to unwind. One night, over a glass of wine in the garden as the stars popped out, I had a proper moment of reflection. Life’s too short for constant hustle; sometimes the best holiday is the one where you let the world spin without you. Left feeling recharged, lighter, already plotting a return to do even less. If you’re after North Wales luxury without the itinerary, this is your spot.