We’d barely made it off the M4 when the sat-nav decided to test our holiday spirit. One wrong turn down a lane that narrowed to a single track and we were nose-to-nose with a tractor whose driver looked as surprised as we felt. Five minutes of polite British reverse-shunting later we were back on the proper road, laughing at ourselves and already feeling the pace of the week slow right down.

By the time we pulled up outside the little stone cottage in Mumbles the sun had broken through and the sea air was doing that thing where it makes everything smell fresher. The front garden was barely big enough for two deckchairs, but the key was waiting under the flowerpot exactly as promised. Inside, everything felt ready for us: a cosy living room with squashy sofas, a kitchen stocked with the essentials, and two neat bedrooms upstairs that already had the beds turned down. The children claimed theirs straight away, leaving us to open the back door and step straight onto the patio that looked towards the water.

We didn’t unpack properly; we just swapped shoes for trainers and wandered the five-minute stroll to the beach. The tide was out, leaving wide stretches of damp sand perfect for skimming stones and hunting for tiny shells. A few local families were already there, dogs trotting happily between rock pools, and we felt instantly part of the gentle rhythm rather than visitors. Later we picked up fish and chips from the kiosk on the front and ate them on a bench watching the last of the day-trippers head home.

Back at the cottage that evening, with the children finally in bed, we sat in the small garden with mugs of tea and listened to the quiet. It struck me how little we’d actually done and how much that suited us. No grand plans, just the simple pleasure of waking up near the sea, wandering when we felt like it, and knowing the cottage would be there whenever we wanted to return for another cuppa. Already the tractor mishap felt like part of the story rather than a hiccup, and I realised that sometimes the best holidays start with getting slightly lost on the way.