I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire – me at the wheel, my wife navigating with that sat-nav app that suddenly decided to lose signal just as we hit the twisty lanes near Narberth. We ended up looping round a narrow farm track, dodging a flock of sheep that looked at us like we were the intruders, and laughing our heads off when I had to reverse into a hedge to let a tractor past. Typical us, turning a straightforward three-hour jaunt from Cardiff into a mini adventure. But as we finally crested the hill towards Tenby, with the sea sparkling in the distance, all that stress melted away. I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation – you know, the kind where you imagine lazy mornings with tea in bed and endless coastal walks.

Pulling up to the property, we were gobsmacked. It’s one of those cosy semi-detached cottages, done up in that classic seaside style with fresh whites and blues that scream relaxation. Perched with a cracking view over Caldey Island, it felt like our own little slice of Welsh heaven right from the off. We dumped the bags, cracked open a bottle of local craft cider, and just stood on the patio watching the sun dip towards the horizon. First impressions? Spot on.

The next few days were pure cottage bliss, the sort of break we needed after a mad year at work. Mornings kicked off with brekkie on the sunny deck – bacon butties and fresh coffee, with seals barking faintly from the rocks below. We’d wander down to Tenby’s North Beach, just a short stroll away, paddling in the shallow waves and building lopsided sandcastles like we were kids ourselves. No rush, no plans – just the simple joy of kicking off our shoes and feeling the sand between our toes. One afternoon, we ambled along the coastal path to Gun Fort, puffing a bit on the ups but rewarded with panoramic views that make you go quiet and grateful.

Of course, cottage life isn’t all Instagram-perfect. I managed to set off the smoke alarm trying to grill mackerel we’d picked up from Tenby’s harbour – total chaos, windows flung open, us flapping tea towels like lunatics while the seagulls outside cheered us on. My wife still teases me about it, but honestly, that’s the magic: those daft moments that stick with you more than any fancy dinner. Evenings were for snuggling on the sofa with a DVD, or nipping to a nearby pub for fish and chips wrapped in paper, eaten back at the cottage with the windows open to the sea breeze.

Reflecting on it now, sat back home with the rain lashing the windows, I realise it’s these unhurried escapes that recharge us. No kids in tow, just us two rediscovering that easy rhythm – walks, waves, a bit of mishap-fuelled laughter. Pembrokeshire’s got that knack for stripping life back to the good bits. We’re already plotting a return, sheep sat-nav or no sheep sat-nav.