We'd been dreaming of a proper getaway to Tenby for ages, just me and the wife, craving that easy rhythm of coastal walks and cracking open a bottle of wine without the usual rush. The drive down from the Midlands was meant to be a breeze, but wouldn't you know it, about halfway through, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a detour through some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline. "This better not be another one of your scenic routes," she teased, as we jostled past a flock of sheep eyeing us suspiciously. Half an hour late and a bit frazzled, we finally rolled up to this charming detached farmhouse tucked away in the quiet village of Redberth, just a stone's throw from Tenby. From the moment we pulled into the ample off-road parking – room for five cars, though it was just ours – I felt the tension melt away. What a first impression: surrounded by rolling countryside, it screamed peaceful retreat, perfect for us two and our bouncy Labrador, who was already sniffing out adventures.

Stepping inside was like being wrapped in a warm hug. The well-appointed kitchen was a dream for whipping up simple suppers – think fresh pasta and garlic bread while we chatted about the day ahead. Right off it was a handy utility room for muddy boots and wet towels, plus a shower room with sink and WC that came in clutch after our beach romps. The kitchen-diner became our hub straight away, that big table inviting us to linger over brews and plan lazy outings. No grand plans, mind – we were all about the simple pleasures of cottage life, with its charming chaos like forgetting where we'd left the dog leads or laughing over a wonky shelf that sent teacups clattering.

First full day, we ambled the short drive to Tenby Harbour, breathing in that salty air and watching fishing boats bob about. We grabbed fish and chips from a harbourside spot, scoffing them on the beach while the dog chased waves, coming back soaked and sandy. Afternoons meant gentle strolls along the coastal path to Caldey Island views – no ferries for us, just soaking up the cliffs and wildflowers. One evening, we tried our hand at a roast in that brilliant kitchen, but the oven timer pinged early, leaving us with slightly singed spuds. "Well, that's proper home cooking," I chuckled, scraping off the black bits. It was those little mishaps that made it feel real, not some polished holiday brochure.

Evenings were pure bliss: unwinding by the wood burner (we'd stocked up from the local farm shop), sharing stories and reflecting on how we'd let work stress build up back home. Here, in this restful spot, it all seemed daft. No kids' football matches or deadlines – just us, rediscovering that quiet joy in each other's company and the Pembrokeshire peace. A family couple's break doesn't get much better than this; if you're after unhurried days of beachcombing, pub lunches at the nearby St Brides Inn, and cosy nights in, this is your spot. We left with sandy paws and fuller hearts, already plotting a return.