I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire – that classic British holiday start with a cheeky twist. We’d piled into the car from Bristol, kids buzzing in the back with crisps and iPads, me navigating via a dodgy phone signal. About halfway, disaster struck: a rogue seagull decided our windscreen was its personal dive-bomb target. Splattered with what I can only describe as nature’s revenge, we pulled over laughing hysterically, wiping it off with baby wipes while the little ones chanted “bird poo attack!” By the time we hit the winding lanes near Redberth, the sun was dipping low, and my heart was doing that anticipatory flip – you know, that mix of “please let it be as good as the photos” and “hope the kids don’t trash it on night one”.

Pulling up to this futuristic geodome on the farmhouse grounds was pure magic, though. It’s one of two quirky domes in a glamping spot full of one-of-a-kind stays, and ours had just been done up with top-notch insulation – cosy as anything without feeling like a tent. King-size bed for us, sofa bed for the kids, and that curved glass roof promising starry nights. First impressions? Blown away. It felt like stepping into a sci-fi pod plonked in rolling Welsh fields, yet dead handy – just four miles from Tenby’s colourful harbour buzz and 4.5 miles from Saundersfoot’s golden sands. We dumped the bags, cracked open a bottle of fizz, and just breathed it all in.

The next few days were peak relaxed family chaos, the kind that makes you forget emails exist. Mornings kicked off with brekkie in the dome – toast on a camp stove vibe, but with proper electrics – then a short hop to Manor Wildlife Park, less than two miles away. The lemurs had the kids in stitches, scampering like furry acrobats, and we all got a bit soppy watching the cheetahs lounge. Lunch was fish and chips from a beachside van in Saundersfoot, sandy toes and all, before splashing in the shallows. Tenby afternoons meant harbour walks, ice creams that dripped faster than the kids could lick, and popping into quirky shops for fudge and postcards. Heatherton World of Adventures was our wild card – go-karts for the husband (he took it far too seriously), mini-golf where I somehow won, and splash pools that turned us into prune-fingered zombies.

Evenings back at the dome were simple bliss: barbecues with local sausages, the kids conking out early under that epic glass ceiling, stars twinkling like they’d showed up just for us. There was one gentle “oh” moment for me, sat there with a cuppa as the sun set – realising how these daft, messy breaks recharge you more than any spa. We’re not fancy travellers; it’s the sand in the car seats, the seagull saga stories we’ll retell forever, that stick. Pembrokeshire nailed it – close enough for lazy days out, but this dome made “home” feel like an adventure. Can’t wait to go back.