I’ll never forget the drive down to Saundersfoot – we piled into the car with the dog, kids, and enough snacks to feed a small army, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a massive traffic jam just past Carmarthen. Half an hour of “Are we there yet?” later, we finally spotted the sea glinting in the distance, and my heart did that little flip of proper holiday anticipation. What if it rained the whole time? What if the beach was rubbish? But nah, as we rolled into the village, those worries melted away. Saundersfoot looked like a postcard – colourful beach huts lining the golden sands, the harbour bobbing with little fishing boats, and that fresh sea air hitting you like a welcome hug.

Pulling up to our ground-floor apartment, I was chuffed to bits. Tucked in a spot with smashing views over the communal garden, it was just the ticket for our ragtag family crew – pet-friendly, dead handy for the beach and village high street, and done up cosy without any fuss. Inside, two cracking bedrooms sorted us out perfectly: a comfy double for me and the missus, and a bigger one with a double and single that the kids claimed straight off, complete with their usual squabbling over who got the window bed. We dumped the bags, cracked open a brew, and let the dog scamper about like he owned the place.

First morning, we wandered the five-minute stroll to the beach, paddling in the calm bay waters while the kids built epic sandcastles that inevitably collapsed into hilarious soggy messes. Saundersfoot’s got that proper family vibe – no massive crowds, just locals strolling the promenade and ice cream vans tinkling away. We grabbed fish and chips from a hut by the harbour one evening, scoffing them on the sand as the sun dipped low, painting everything orange. Pure bliss, that. Another day, we ambled along the coastal path towards the wooded bit near the village, spotting seals lounging on the rocks below – the littlest one nearly toppled over the edge in excitement, prompting a dad moment of “Oi, careful!” and me realising I’m not as young as I used to be.

Evenings were cottage chaos at its finest: board games round the table that descended into cheating accusations and laughter, the dog nicking sausage rolls off plates, and us lot collapsing in front of a rubbish telly while rain pattered on the window. It made me pause one night, pint in hand, thinking how these simple daft moments – the sand in the shoes, the full-on family rows over the remote – are what recharge the batteries better than any fancy spa. No grand adventures needed; just us, the sea, and a bit of Welsh magic.

Saundersfoot nailed it for a chilled-out break. If you’re after that easy seaside life with kids and a furry mate in tow, you can’t go wrong. We’re already plotting a return – traffic jam and all.