I’ll never forget the drive down to Tenby – we’d been buzzing with excitement about our little getaway, but of course, I managed to take a wrong turn just past Carmarthen. Satnav lost its marbles in the twisty lanes, and there we were, me swearing under my breath (well, almost), Ruth laughing her head off as we looped back through some sleepy village. Half an hour later, hearts still racing a bit, we finally spotted the turn-off to Penally, that scattered little spot hugging the Welsh coast. The anticipation was proper tingling – sea air whipping in through the windows, promising fish and chips and proper downtime.

Pulling up to the place felt like unwrapping a gift. It’s this cracking all-ground-floor setup tucked on the owner’s land, dead stylish without trying too hard, and the outside area? Blimey, it’s a suntrap begging for lazy afternoons. Stepping through those massive bi-fold doors was the best bit – sunlight flooded in, turning the whole living room into this bright, airy haven. We dumped the bags and flopped straight onto the plush blue sofa, Ruth claiming the mustard armchair like it was her throne. First impressions? Spot on. It screamed “relax here forever.”

We were after a chilled couple’s break, just us two shaking off the daily grind, and this nailed it. Kitchen’s kitted out proper – electric oven, gas hob, dishwasher, the lot – so rustling up brekkie was a doddle. I even attempted pancakes one morning, which turned into a floury disaster (note to self: flip less aggressively next time). Laughing over burnt edges with fresh coffee felt like peak cottage chaos, the kind that makes you realise how daft life gets when you’re rushing about at home.

Days blurred into this lovely rhythm of simple pleasures. A short stroll down to Penally’s beach for pebble-skipping and paddling – water was bracing, but that’s the joy, innit? We wandered into Tenby proper, barely a mile away, for pasties from that bakery on the high street and ice creams while dodging seagulls on the harbour wall. Evenings, we’d fire up the barbecue out back, cracking open a bottle of wine as the sun dipped over Caldey Island. One night, stars out in force, we just sat there, feet up, chatting about nothing. Pure bliss.

There was this gentle moment of reflection on the last evening, watching the tide roll in from the garden. Ruth nudged me: “We needed this, didn’t we?” And yeah, we did. Work stress, endless to-do lists – it all melted away in the quiet hum of waves and that comfy sofa. No grand adventures, just us pottering about, rediscovering each other amid the washing-up and wonky pancakes. If you’re after a relaxed family-style couple’s escape – wait, us oldies count as family now, right? – this corner of Wales delivers. Tenby’s got that magic: close enough for a mooch, far enough to forget the world. We’re already plotting a return.