I’ll never forget the drive to Cwtch Lodge 42 in Pembrokeshire – a proper Welsh summer jaunt that started with me spilling half my Costa flat white all over the passenger seat just past the M4. Daft, innit? There I was, fiddling with the satnav while humming along to some Kasabian, and suddenly it’s like a milky tsunami. Mopped it up with a service station napkin, but the car smelled like a hipster café for the rest of the way. Still, by the time I trundled down those narrow lanes towards Narberth, the sun was peeking through the clouds, and I was buzzing for my three-day getaway.

It was mid-July, peak Welsh summer – you know the score: one minute it’s scorching like the Med, the next it’s chucking it down like Noah’s ark reloaded. That’s what made the arrival at Cwtch Lodge 42 so quintessentially Pembrokeshire. I pulled up to this cosy little wooden lodge tucked in a peaceful holiday park just outside Narberth, and the first thing that hit me was the warmth. Not just the balmy 24-degree air, but the hug of the place itself. “Cwtch” means cuddle in Welsh, right? Spot on name. The lodge sat there all snug under a canopy of leafy oaks, their branches heavy with that lush green you only get in high summer. I stepped out, suitcase in tow, and the scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass wrapped around me like a welcome mat.

Pushing open the door – no faffing with keys, just a code on the keypad – I was gobsmacked by how light and airy it felt inside. Big windows framed the rolling fields beyond, golden in the late afternoon sun, with not a cloud in sight for once. The open-plan living space was a dream: squishy sofas in soft greys, a wood-burner that wasn’t needed on this toasty day but promised cosiness if the weather turned, and a kitchen kitted out with everything from a Nespresso machine to pots big enough for a beach barbecue. I dumped my bags and cracked open the bifold doors to the decking – oh, hello view! A private hot tub bubbled away invitingly, steam rising lazily into the still air, and beyond it, the park’s open spaces stretched out, dotted with families kicking a ball about in the sunshine.

That first evening, the season really took centre stage. I nipped out for a wander around Narberth – it’s only a couple of miles away, proper local vibes. The high street was alive with that summery buzz: market stalls hawking fresh strawberries the size of golf balls, kids licking ice creams that were melting faster than you could say “brain freeze.” Grabbed some pasties from a bakery (Cornish? Who cares, they were lush), and by the time I got back, the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in pinks and oranges over the Preseli Hills. Slipped into the hot tub with a cold Peroni, jets massaging away the drive’s kinks, and watched swallows darting about like tiny acrobats. Pure bliss, even if I did yelp when a rogue splash hit my pint.

But here’s a quiet moment of reflection as the stars winked on: sitting there, bubbles churning, I realised how this fleeting summer warmth – so rare and precious in Wales – makes you appreciate the simple things. No grand plans, just the lodge’s embrace, the season’s golden glow, and that first-impression magic that hooks you straight away. The next days would bring beach rambles and cliff walks, but honestly, arriving at Cwtch Lodge 42 in full Pembrokeshire summer? That was the highlight. If you’re after a proper cwtch, book it – just mind your coffee on the way.