I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire – a proper British road trip, complete with that one classic mishap. We’d piled into the car in Cardiff, kids buzzing in the back with crisps and iPads, me navigating via a dodgy phone signal. About halfway, just past Carmarthen, we hit a massive puddle from overnight rain that turned the motorway into a splash zone. Our windscreen wipers were working overtime, and poor old Rover ended up with a face full of muddy spray. “Welcome to Wales,” I laughed, wiping the dash as we finally spotted the signs for Narberth. By the time we turned onto that quiet rural lane, anticipation was sky-high – Copybush Cottage had looked perfect online, and I was dreaming of cosy evenings after proper countryside rambles.

Pulling up, it was even better than the photos. This pet-friendly gem, renovated to a high standard, sat snugly on the lane, all welcoming and ready for a family getaway. We tumbled out, our spaniel Monty shaking off the journey, and stepped into the utility room to ditch our soggy boots. First impressions? Spot on. The ground-floor shower room was a godsend for quick freshens-up, and that sociable dining space with the woodburning stove had us cracking open bubbly within minutes. The blue country-style kitchen, with its magnificent retro range cooker, felt like a hug from a bygone era – perfect for rustling up supper while we swapped stories.

But let’s be honest, the real star was the walking. Pembrokeshire’s countryside is made for it, especially from a spot like this, just 1.6 miles from Lawrenny. Day one dawned bright, so we headed out for a gentle hike along the woodland paths towards the estuary. The air was crisp, bluebells nodding in the breeze, and Monty bounded ahead like he owned the place. We wandered past sleepy farms, spotting herons by the water – pure magic, that first taste of freedom after the drive.

Come day two, classic British weather decided to flex. Grey skies rolled in, turning our planned amble to Lawrenny Quay into a squelchy adventure. Rain pattered down as we trudged coastal paths, hoods up, laughing at the sudden gales that had us leaning like pissed sailors. “This is character-building!” I yelled over the wind, while the kids pretended it was an Arctic expedition. We sheltered under dripping trees, sharing flapjacks, and it forced us onto hidden inland trails – boggy lanes that twisted through meadows, surprisingly peaceful despite the downpour. Monty emerged looking like a drowned rat, but grinning.

By day three, sun peeked out again, so we looped back towards the cottage via hedgerow paths, mud caking our wellies. Those weather switches kept us on our toes – one minute basking in coastal views, the next dodging puddles like pros. It made me reflect a bit, sat by the stove that night, flames dancing as I sipped tea. In our rush-rush lives back home, we rarely slow down for rain or shine. Here, the hikes taught us to roll with it – bad weather just meant cozier chats and unexpected discoveries.

We left with muddy memories and fuller hearts, already plotting the next soggy stroll. Pembrokeshire walks? Unbeatable, whatever the forecast.