We set off from Cardiff far too early on a drizzly Thursday morning, convinced the satnav knew a clever shortcut through the back lanes. It didn’t. Halfway along a single-track road that kept narrowing like a funnel, we met a tractor coming the opposite way and had to reverse into a gateway that turned out to be mostly puddle. By the time we reached the little lane leading down to 1 Bed Cottage, our shoes were already damp and our tempers slightly frayed.

The cottage sat just above the shingle, a low whitewashed place with a slate roof and a blue door that needed a firm shoulder. We fumbled with the key safe for an embarrassing minute before the latch finally gave, and the smell of woodsmoke and fresh bread drifted out to meet us. Inside it was exactly the right size: one cosy bedroom tucked under the eaves, a living room with a wood burner already laid, and a kitchen window that looked straight onto the water. I dropped our bags by the sofa and stood for a moment just listening to the tide pulling at the stones outside.

We wandered onto the little patio with mugs of tea that had gone cold while we unpacked. The beach was only a minute’s walk down a narrow path between two hedges, and the air tasted properly salty. A few dog-walkers passed, nodding hello, and a cormorant bobbed just beyond the breakwater. It felt like the sort of place where you could spend an entire afternoon watching nothing much happen and still feel you’d done something useful.

Later, when the sun finally broke through, we strolled along the strand collecting the odd shell and laughing about the tractor incident, which already seemed funnier now that our socks were dry. Back at the cottage I lit the fire, even though it wasn’t really cold, and we sat with the door open listening to the gulls. There’s something quietly reassuring about arriving somewhere small and simple after a journey that tried its best to be complicated; it makes you notice the ordinary bits—the kettle, the driftwood, the way the light moves across the floor—that you might otherwise rush past.