I finally made it to that cosy 1 Bed Lodge in Kilgetty after what felt like the world's most unnecessary detour. We'd piled into the car that Friday morning from Cardiff, the kids buzzing with excitement about Saundersfoot's beaches, me dreaming of nothing but kicking back with a cuppa. But no, halfway through, I took a "shortcut" via some winding B-road that Google Maps swore was quicker. Big mistake. We ended up behind a tractor trundling along at snail's pace, the little ones chanting "Are we there yet?" while I gripped the wheel, muttering about my rubbish sense of direction. Twenty minutes later, we emerged, laughing it off as classic family holiday chaos – the kind that starts the trip with a bang.

Pulling up to the lodge just before lunch, I was chuffed to bits. Tucked away in a quiet spot in Kilgetty, it's proper Pembrokeshire charm: a snug one-bed timber lodge with that welcoming wooden exterior, surrounded by lush green hedges and birdsong. No grand entrance, just a simple gravel drive where we parked, unloaded the boot in a flurry of bags and beach toys, and stepped inside. The door creaked open to reveal a surprisingly roomy open-plan living area – perfect for our little crew of four (me, the missus, and the two under-tens squeezing into the sofa bed). The kitchenette was kitted out with all the basics: kettle on the go straight away for a proper brew, toaster for beans on toast, and a fridge that hummed contentedly as we stocked it with local milk and pasties from the village shop down the road.

First impressions? Blissfully unpretentious. The bed in the main room looked like heaven after our drive – plump duvet, crisp sheets, and a window framing the gentle Welsh hills. We dumped our stuff and immediately flopped onto the squishy corner sofa, the kids claiming it as their fort while I surveyed the view. Outside, a private patio beckoned with a couple of chairs and a parasol, ideal for al fresco cups of tea. It wasn't five-star fancy, but that's the point of lodge life, innit? No stuffy hotel rules, just our own little nook to unwind. I nipped out to check the garden area – communal but peaceful, with space for the kids to burn off steam chasing each other around, giggling like loons.

We didn't waste time; a quick five-minute drive took us to Saundersfoot beach, that golden stretch of sand with the calm bay waters lapping at the shore. The sun peeked through the clouds as we parked up near the harbour – free parking on a weekday, score! The kids bolted straight for the pebbles, building wonky towers while we strolled the promenade, grabbing fish and chips from the takeaway shack. Crispy batter, mushy peas, the works – washed down with fizzy pop from the Coppet Hall beach kiosk nearby. Sat on the sand, toes buried in the cool grains, I watched them splash in the shallows, feeling that rare parental glow. Saundersfoot's got that unspoiled vibe: donkey rides ambling by, families flying kites, and the sea air that clears your head like nothing else.

Back at the lodge by late afternoon, the real magic kicked in. We fired up the barbecue on the patio (gas one, thank goodness – no faffing with charcoal), grilling sausages from the local butcher in Kilgetty high street. Chaos ensued when the youngest knocked over a plate of buns, sending them rolling into the grass like escaped ping-pong balls. "Mummy's little tornado," I chuckled, retrieving them while she howled with laughter. Cosy evening in: board games on the coffee table, the telly flickering with some rubbish kids' show, and that wood-effect stove we didn't need but loved pretending we did. As the sun dipped, painting the sky pink over the hills, I had a quiet moment on the patio steps. Staring out, pint in hand, I reflected on how these simple stays – the mishaps, the sandy hugs, the lodge's warm hug – remind you life's not about grand plans. It's the quiet family bits that stick.

By bedtime, with the kids zonked out and the lodge glowing softly, I knew we'd nailed the perfect relaxed break. Saundersfoot and this gem of a 1 Bed Lodge? Already plotting a return.