I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire – a proper British road trip with the family crammed into the car, kids bickering over the last Haribo, and me navigating via a dodgy phone signal. We’d been dreaming of this holiday for months, picturing coastal paths and fresh sea air. But about 20 miles out, disaster struck: a puncture on the A487. There we were, stranded on a rainy verge, me wrestling with the spare tyre while the dog looked at me like I’d ruined his day. An hour later, slightly frazzled but laughing about it, we rolled up to this cracking five-bedroom farmhouse just outside St Davids. First impressions? Spot on. The place looked inviting with its countryside views stretching out, and spotting the hot tub in the garden had us grinning like idiots before we’d even unpacked.

We’d booked it for the walks – Pembrokeshire’s got some of the best coastal paths in the country, and it sleeps nine comfortably, dog-friendly too, which was perfect for our mongrel. That bistro-style kitchen with the breakfast bar became our fuelling station, whipping up bacon butties before heading out. Day one, the weather gods smiled: blue skies over Abereiddy. We parked up (off-road parking for the win) and tackled the path to the Blue Lagoon. It’s this stunning quarry-turned-swimming-hole, turquoise water sparkling like something out of a brochure. The hike’s a good couple of miles along cliffs, gorse buzzing with bees, and the kids raced ahead, wind in their hair. We paused for pebble-skipping contests – I lost spectacularly, naturally – and the views back over the bay were pure magic. Back at the house, we crashed in the spacious living room, woodburner crackling, sofas swallowing us whole for a movie night. Bliss.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, grey clouds rolled in over Porthgain, turning our planned cliff-top ramble into a squelchy slog. Undeterred, we layered up and hit the trail anyway. The path from Porthgain harbour snakes along rugged headlands, past old quarry workings, with waves crashing below. Mist clung to everything, turning the sea into a moody blur, but there’s something epic about it – like you’re in a Brontë novel, only with wellies. We sheltered in a cove for soggy pasties, the dog shaking seawater over us all. It wasn’t the sun-drenched hike we’d imagined, but it forced us to slow down, chat properly, point out seabirds we’d have missed in a rush.

By day three, sunshine broke through for a gentler stroll near St Davids, looping through meadows to the cathedral close. The weather flips kept us on our toes – one minute sun hats, next brolly battles – but that’s the joy of it. Cosied up in the garden snug during a downpour, hot tub bubbling away for later, I had a quiet moment reflecting: we’re so busy at home, always rushing. These walks, rain or shine, reminded me to just breathe, take the long view. Pembrokeshire’s paths are stubborn like that – they’ll drench you, dazzle you, and leave you properly recharged. We left muddy-booted and happy, already plotting a return.