It’s a perfect day for the beach. At midday, the Swansea Bay tide is just past its lowest point and a broad swathe of sun-baked sand is exposed, along with a scattering of rocky stretches.

Clutching electric foil boards, two wetsuit-clad men climb the promenade steps after finishing a display of effortless skimming over the water. Out on the sparkling water a pair of more conventional stand-up boarders use elbow grease and paddles to power their way.

Two red and yellow flags mark out the supervised bathing area, overseen by a lifeguard seated at a midpoint on a high chair, as a few dozen groups of sunbathers dot the beach. A school day still, the beach clientele and those strolling along the prom or heading to the beachside café comprise mainly of parents with toddlers and older people.

And overlooking the whole scene are the green and white beach huts, which have stood in one form or another for 100 years, curving along the edges of the beach in a graceful backstop to the sands and tides of Langland Bay in Swansea.

There are stories of cabins which sell for the cost of a house, but here democracy reigns; the huts, owned by the council, are available only to residents of the county, and only via a ballot each year, ensuring everyone has a chance of securing a turn in one of the 80 available.

It’s the second time Liz Symons has been successful in the ballot. She and five friends club together and each applies, but it took them seven years to get lucky the first time, in 2023.

As in that year, they have a three-month £651 lease on the cabin which takes them from the start of July through to the end of September.

They didn’t waste any time on moving in day. They were at the hut by 06:30 GMT the first day, cleaning and decorating to make it their own, after weeks pondering what the all-important theme would be.

“We decided pink this year as a friend of ours died last year, and she was all into pink,” Liz explains, sitting in front of the – what else? – pink voile curtains that frame the doorway. “So it’s a bit of a thing for her.

“The year before, it was a seaside theme. We’re even thinking ahead now, and maybe a tiki bar theme for our next one. You’ve got to theme it, you see.”

Liz visits every day, and indeed this is already the third time her family has used the hut today. An early walk for her mother’s dog, a drink at the hut and home by 10:00. Next her husband comes with their own dog for a walk; now she is back to enjoy the afternoon sunshine in the company of one of her hut friends, who arrived earlier to enjoy some quiet reading time alone.

As we chat, a third member of the consortium calls out as she walks past on the promenade below the huts, also heading around the popular headland that separates Langland Bay from Caswell Bay. It is clear that the hut is a fantastic boon for conviviality and socialising.

As well as the casual daily visits, they “tend to have one party per month”, she reveals.

“It’s the full hog. We get a delivery from one of the curry houses in Mumbles to bring kebabs down. It’s great fun.”

Tenants are prohibited from remaining overnight in the cabins but Liz’s group have stayed to about 23:00 some nights.

“It gets pitch dark as there’s no light down here at all, so that’s the only problem,” she notes. “We had fairy lights and things but down here you can’t see a thing [otherwise].”

Her hut neighbours come very early every morning to go swimming – “there’s about 10 of them” – but never return later in the day, and surprisingly, she does not see many people, despite the number of huts.

“Most of them are always empty,” she says, gesturing to the long row of mostly unoccupied huts and then the sun-kissed beach.

“This is the crazy thing. You look down there, it’s a beautiful day. It’s mad.”

During both this and her previous rental, she has only ever seen 11 huts occupied at the same time, whether on a weekday, weekends or during the school holidays. A former hut renter also tells the same story.

One of the few downsides is the cost of parking. There is one short street with free parking next to the beach, and no concessions for renters in the council car park apart from the general Swansea resident discount of 50p off most tariffs. At £6 for four hours or £8 for nine, this could soon add plenty to the cost of renting.

As well as a meeting place for friends, Liz, 65, sees the beach hut as a temporary refuge from responsibility.

“Our mothers are not well. We’re of an age now, our mothers are in their 80s and they need help at home – that’s one of the reasons I gave up work 10 years ago, because my mother was ill,” she explains.

“At the same time, you’ve got to have time for yourself, and this is just perfect. I can’t go abroad now because I’ve got my mother to look after, so look at this. It’s fab.”

Unlike Liz, former double-glazing fitter Keith Grimshaw, 68, hit the jackpot with his very first application this year after retiring.

“When you’re working, it’s not worth it,” he says.

“My grandson and granddaughters come down and use it. I’ve got three in Swansea and two in Caerphilly. We’ve been five days so far.

“It’s just peaceful, and tranquil. You can just sit here and enjoy it.”

Eight days into the rental, they are starting to find a routine with the hut. He chooses to walk his dog beforehand as it gets too hot in the hut for the dog to be comfortable, and then he and his wife will come down about 11:00, and settle in for the day.

Two passersby call up to Keith at one point, asking questions about the hut, revealing that they are looking to move to the area and are even more keen now on learning that it would make them eligible to get a hut in future.

They will be competing with Keith, that’s for sure.

He says: “We’ll try every year. They said this was a record year for people applying as well, so I don’t think that’s going to get any better.”

As the afternoon lengthens, Sally Thomas arrives at her mother’s hut, a few doors along from Liz. The 46-year-old PCSO has come with her friend and their children.

“Straight from school now, we’re going to make the most of the lovely weather,” she says.

The two kids scramble into wetsuits and grab body boards before racing off to the sea with one mother in tow, as Sally explains her family has a history with Langland.

Her mother rented one of the former canvas beach huts, which used to sit on the pebbles at the top of the beach itself, until a large storm washed them away over 40 years ago.

“She thought she’d try her luck [this year] and got it first time. I remember coming down when I was a child so I had fond memories of being down on the beach.”

“We had a grand opening last week. My mum put all the bunting up and there’s a little bar in there, so we’ve got our prosecco and cakes and things – make the most of it.”

The bar was already installed when they arrived, and a few handy hooks up on the walls, which are being put to good use for swimming paraphernalia.

“It’s good to have a base, rather than carrying everything around. It’s just easier.”

As Sally works in the neighbourhood policing team in Mumbles, the closest settlement to Langland, she often patrols the beach area with work.

“I’m here quite a bit,” she notes, adding she can see the other side to the idyllic beach when nights come and occasionally anti-social behaviour bubbles over.

But like Liz, Sally views the hut as a place to come to escape from life’s pressures for a while.

“You think, enjoy the day and not worry about other things. It’s therapy for me.”