I’ll never forget the drive down to Saundersfoot – we’d packed the car to the gills with beach toys, snacks, and enough changes of clothes for a month, convinced the Welsh weather would turn on us. Halfway there, just past Carmarthen, the sat nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a scenic detour through some narrow lanes that had me white-knuckling the wheel. “Are we lost?” the kids piped up from the back, while my other half stifled a laugh. Turns out it was only adding ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity with a five-year-old chanting “are we there yet?” on repeat. Still, as we crested the hill into the village, the sun broke through, glinting off the sea, and all was forgiven. Saundersfoot looked like a postcard – that perfect Pembrokeshire mix of sandy bay and colourful beach huts.

Pulling up to our ground-floor apartment, I let out a sigh of relief at the off-road parking spot right outside. No faffing about with suitcases on a steep hill – bliss. We’d been buzzing with anticipation all week, dreaming of lazy days by the coast, and the first impressions didn’t disappoint. Stepping into the bright entrance hall, lined with photos of the local beaches and harbours, felt like a warm welcome from an old mate. It set the tone perfectly for our family getaway.

Through to the open-plan living space, and it was love at first sight. Spacious sofas begged for a family pile-in, and those patio doors opened onto a shared lawn with proper sea views – Caldey Island peeking in the distance on a clear day. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bag of crisps, the kids already glued to a cartoon on the Smart TV while we gazed out, toes curling in anticipation of the sand. It slept us five comfortably in the two bedrooms, with everything spotlessly cosy and just right for little ones charging about.

The next few days blurred into that glorious cottage chaos we crave on holiday. Mornings kicked off with brekkie on the patio, then a five-minute wander down to Saundersfoot beach – golden sands perfect for sandcastle marathons and paddling in the shallows. The tide goes out miles here, revealing rock pools teeming with crabs that had the kids shrieking with delight (and me rescuing dropped wellies). We’d grab fish and chips from one of the beachfront spots, eaten straight from the paper while dodging seagulls – pure, greasy joy.

Afternoons meant gentle strolls along the coastal path towards Coppet Hill, spotting seals bobbing offshore, or just flopping on the lawn back at the flat, reading daft novels while the little ones ran wild. Evenings were film nights with popcorn, the sea’s gentle whoosh lulling us. Sure, there was the odd toddler meltdown over a lost spade, but that’s the charm – simple pleasures amid the joyful mess.

Reflecting on it now, sat back home with the school run looming, I realise it’s these unhurried days that recharge us. No grand plans, just family, sea air, and a bit of lovely disorder. Saundersfoot nailed it – we’re already plotting a return.