I’ll never forget the drive up to that little holiday cottage in Powys, right on the edge of North Wales. We’d piled into the car in Shrewsbury early doors, full of beans about escaping the daily grind, but by the time we hit the winding lanes around Garthmyl, things were going pear-shaped. The sat-nav, bless it, decided to throw a wobbly and sent us down what felt like a sheep track masquerading as a road. I’m steering like a pro, or so I thought, when – splat! – we hit a massive pothole that sent my other half’s Costa coffee flying all over the dashboard. Cue much faffing with wet wipes and me muttering apologies while the kids in the back howled with laughter. “Dad’s a right numpty,” my youngest piped up, and fair play, she wasn’t wrong. Still, as we finally crested that hill overlooking the lush countryside, the chaos melted away. There it was, this cosy gem of a cottage, plonked on a proper working farm in this sleepy hamlet. First impressions? Absolute belter.

Pulling up, gravel crunching under the tyres, I could already feel the anticipation bubbling over. We’d been dreaming of this for weeks – no emails, no deadlines, just us lot unwinding. The place looked spot-on for our crew of five: inviting and unpretentious, with that lived-in charm you don’t get from soulless hotels. Stepping inside, the open-plan living space hit us like a warm hug. The woodburner was begging for a log or two, and the sofas looked perfect for sprawling out with a brew and the telly after a day’s ramble. The kitchen? A proper oak number, kitted out with everything you’d need to rustle up a full Welsh breakfast – toaster, kettle, even a slow cooker for that evening stew. Dining table right there too, sturdy enough for family board games or just chinwagging over supper. Downstairs shower room was a godsend after our muddy drive, and the utility sorted the wellies we’d inevitably traipse in.

We hadn’t even unpacked properly before the kids were off exploring the farmyard, chatting to the farmer about his sheep and cows – proper hands-on stuff that had them grinning ear to ear. Me and the missus cracked open a bottle of plonk in the living area, gazing out at the rolling fields. It was one of those moments where you catch yourself thinking, “Blimey, we do alright, don’t we?” Not every holiday starts with coffee carnage, but it made the peace that followed all the sweeter. A gentle nudge to slow down and appreciate the simple things, like the way the light fades over the hills or the sound of rain pattering on the roof later that night. Next morning, we wandered the nearby paths, spotting buzzards wheeling overhead, then nipped into Montgomery village – just a hop away – for a cream tea in that quaint tearoom. Back at the cottage, it was all about cosying up by the fire, sharing stories. Honestly, if you’re after a proper reset with loved ones amid North Wales’ green heart, this is the ticket. Mishaps and all, it was magic.