I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire – what should’ve been a straightforward jaunt from Haverfordwest turned into a comedy of errors when the sat-nav decided to play silly beggars and sent us down a muddy farm track that wasn’t on any map I’ve ever seen. There we were, me white-knuckling the wheel, the kids in the back chanting “Are we there yet?” for the umpteenth time, and the dog doing emergency zoomies across the seats every time we hit a pothole. I’d built up this giddy anticipation all week, dreaming of crisp coastal air and proper downtime, but by the time we finally spotted the turning, I was half-convinced we’d end up in someone’s cow field. Spoiler: we didn’t, but my nerves were properly frayed.

Pulling up to this tucked-away barn conversion on a working farm between Haverfordwest and Narberth felt like stumbling into a hidden gem. The place is beautifully done up, all cosy and inviting with that effortless style that screams “kick off your shoes and stay a while.” First impressions? Blimey, they hit like a warm hug after that chaotic drive. We tumbled out of the car, mud-splattered and laughing, and there it was – our home for the week, nestled in the rolling countryside with views that stretched out like a proper Welsh postcard. The anticipation I’d nursed through traffic jams melted away the second we stepped inside; it was spot-on comfortable, furnished to a standard that made our city flat feel like a distant memory.

No sooner had we dumped the bags than we were itching to explore. A quick wander along the quiet country lanes right from the door led us straight into that network of footpaths towards Canaston Woods. It’s magical, those paths – bits of the old Knights’ Way winding through ancient woodland, past quirky spots like Blackpool Mill. We meandered for hours, the kids charging ahead like feral explorers, while I trailed behind, soaking it in and having one of those gentle “what am I even doing with my life?” moments. Back home, I’m always rushing; here, time just slowed down, and I realised how much I needed that reset.

For family fun, we didn’t have far to go. Clerkenhill Adventure Farm is just down the road – perfect for the little ones to get stuck into tractor rides and animal feeding without us driving miles. Wild Lakes Family Adventures had us splashing about on kayaks and zorbing like idiots, and Picton Castle Gardens offered a shady stroll amid blooming chaos that even had me pretending to know my rhododendrons from my elbow. It’s all within a cheeky five-mile radius, which meant more time faffing about and less time in the car – a win after our arrival farce.

Honestly, that slightly shambolic start made the whole trip sweeter. Pembrokeshire’s got this knack for turning mishaps into memories, and this farm stay was the ideal base for it. If you’re after proper relaxation with a side of adventure, you can’t go wrong here. We left buzzing, already plotting a return – sat-nav be damned.