Portmeirion

You'll round a corner near Talsarnau and suddenly there's this impossible pastel village sprawling across a private peninsula like someone's dropped a Mediterranean resort into North Wales. Portmeirion is utterly mad, and I mean that as a compliment. Built by architect Clough Williams-Ellis from 1925 onwards, it's genuinely one of Britain's most peculiar attractions - all candy-coloured buildings, clock towers, and theatrical set pieces arranged with absolute disregard for convention.

Walking around takes two to three hours if you're not rushing. You'll wander past Italianate villas, through gardens planted with Mediterranean shrubs that somehow survive the Welsh coast, past fountains and follies and buildings that look like they've been transplanted wholesale from the Amalfi coast. It's theatrical rather than authentic, which is rather the point. The village was Williams-Ellis's personal vision: a place where beauty could be prioritised over planning sense.

Families will find it engaging for an afternoon - the grounds are genuinely beautiful and there's that ongoing puzzle of figuring out what on earth each building is. It's worth the drive from nearby parks like Haven Greenacres or Barcdy, both within a few miles. Admission is paid and the village operates as a working hotel and holiday destination, so you're essentially walking through someone's ongoing property development, which gives it a slightly surreal quality.

Don't expect historical gravitas or educational rigour. Come expecting visual theatre, a bit of kitsch, and a genuinely strange corner of Britain that shouldn't work but absolutely does.