I’ll never forget the drive down to Saundersfoot – we’d packed the car to the gills with beach towels, snacks, and enough books to last a nuclear winter, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky detour through some winding lanes that had me white-knuckling the wheel. A rogue goat decided to photobomb our progress by strolling right into the road, forcing an emergency stop that sent the crisps flying. Typical us, turning a three-hour journey into a four-hour farce, but by the time we crested that final hill, hearts were light and the sea was sparkling like it was rolling out the red carpet.

Pulling up to this inviting first-floor apartment, I felt that proper holiday buzz – you know, the one where worries melt away before you’ve even unpacked. It’s got this open-plan setup that just welcomes you in, with a balcony peering over a lush, mature communal garden and lawn that begged for lazy lounging. Tucked in the heart of Saundersfoot, Pembrokeshire, it’s a stroll away from the beach and village shops, but honestly, who needs to rush? Two cosy bedrooms – one with a comfy double, the other twin beds for the kids or mates – and a cracking bathroom with a bath and shower over, perfect for rinsing off the salt (or, in our case, just soaking with a GandT).

From the off, it was all about savouring the joy of doing bugger all. First morning, I cracked open my battered copy of a P.G. Wodehouse on that balcony, coffee in hand, while the garden below hummed with birdsong and the distant crash of waves on Saundersfoot beach. No agenda, no alarms – just the sun warming my toes as I watched families amble past on their way to the sand. We’d pop down to the village for pasties from the bakery or fish and chips from the takeaway, but half the time, we’d just flop on the lawn with a picnic blanket, reading aloud in silly voices till our sides hurt.

One afternoon, I caught myself staring at a butterfly flitting about the garden flowers, and it hit me – back home, I’m always chasing the next thing, but here? Bliss in the slowdown. The other half dozed with her thriller, kids built epic sandcastles in their minds (or was it just piles of sand?), and we’d wander the five-minute path to the beach for a paddle in the shallow bay, skim stones, then retreat for balcony naps. Evenings blurred into board games by the window, with the sea air drifting in, and that garden view turning dusky gold.

Saundersfoot’s got its gentle charms – the harbour’s boats bobbing, the odd ice cream from the parlour – but this stay was pure poetry in idleness. No grand adventures, just recharging amid the green and blue. If you fancy switching off proper, this is your spot. We left fatter, happier, and already plotting a return.