A smashing time at the Thames Head but not actually seeing THE Thames Head

Difficult start to this post.  Regular readers will recall that I usually have a light-hearted dig at my dear Mother in Law AKA Creaky.

Oh how I wish I could be doing that now.  Heart broken to let you know that after a long battle against illness, a battle that she bravely fought with everything she had, Creaky passed away in October.

Herself is due to return to work next week, but wants just a few nights away for a physical break between caring and grieving before signing back on to her laptop.

Sleep well beautiful lady, now pain free.

Only 3 nights, so not much to load up  really, in fact we probably took more weight out (Isabella table and Thor chairs) that we added in clothes!

A first for us this trip in that we're not heading for a traditional campsite, instead we've got 3 nights booked in a pub beer garden (sort of), so with driving taken out of the equation in the evenings this could get quite messy for me.

Wednesday 3 November

Herself still had her reservations and is torn between wanting to stay with Grumbles or getting a few nights R&R.  It wasn't until the van was out of the drive and hitched up that I believed we were going to go, but just after 10.30am , and under bright blue skies I was able to virtually shout on Twitter ....... Wagons Roll!!!!!

The tow was uneventful, just how it should be, and we cruised the M4 eastwards as far as J18, then taking the A46 up into The Cotswolds.  I'd sent a message ahead and was disappointed that Charles & Camilla didn't bother to come out and wave as we cruised past their front door at Highgrove.  I would have come out if he'd been driving through Llangennech!!!

Tetbury was interesting as we carved our way through the lunchtime bustle, and Herself had one of her "close your eyes" moments as I bullied my way through.  Soon enough we're passing Cotswold Airport and pulling into the car park of the Thames Head Inn, our destination for 3 nights.

I'd read on tinternet about tight access to the campsite and had messaged the owner about my concerns.  Reassurances were given that although tight they have no problem getting their twin axle 8ft wide van around there.

I swung as wide as I could to the left, hindered by sleepers on the tarmac and a bloody great big tree, before aiming left to straighten up.  Not quite enough though, stopping sharply as I watch the side of the caravan settling just 40mm from a building overhang.

I asked Herself to watch me in, but she refused point blank to take any responsibility for the manoeuvre, so conceding that she was probably right the van was unhitched, mover engaged, and inched into a bit of open space. Hitching back up to complete the final 20m of the journey onto site.

A nice young lady gave us a choice of 3 pitches and we chose the largest as our rig isn't exactly small.

Couple of issues though.  We're backing onto the fence that separates the site from the A433 and road noise, and the adjacent property is in the middle of having a large extension built (busman's holiday for me) though the moss on the blockwork says work has stalled for some considerable time.

We're just tidying up after pitching when we first encounter Mr & Mrs Entitled.  Pitches aren't reserved here, but it appears they are regular visitors and were banking on being able to wind the legs down on pitch #9, which just happens to be the largest on site.

Herself gives a cheery wave as Mr Entitled lines himself up for the reverse onto pitch #7 which is returned with  a filthy look.  Mrs Entitled gets out to guide him in as his X Trail tears up the soft wet grass area and she also gives Herself the same treatment.  They huff and puff through setting up, frequently looking over their shoulders to give us dirty looks.

They've bitten off more than they can chew here though as they don't know that I've a black belt in giving people filthy looks!

They pop out to get some shopping, and in unison both sneer at me as they crawl along the site track.  Mine and Mr Entitled eyes met and locked.  He now knows he's got a battle on!

The clocks have now gone back, meaning it's getting dark early.  5.15pm and we're grabbing a torch, clipping the dogs on and heading off to the pub.  We walk in and the bar area appears to have been taken over by a gang of hooray teenagers.  Most dressed in tweed, some with deerstalkers and some sucking on an empty pipe, but all braying as they discuss Pappa's latest muse.

We'd not reserved a table but luckily were fitted in as we wanted food as well and settled down for the evening.

After about an hour the hoorays departed and the pub adopted a different vibe .... chilled and relaxed.  The barman comes round to take our food order.  By now I'm a few pints into my evening and we've struck up a bit of a relation ship.  It appears he's little time for the Hoorays and the convo went something like this.

Me - A bit quieter now the youngsters have left.

BM - yes, sorry about that.

Herself - At least they're spending money.

Through a sneer

BM - Not their money though, their parents' money!

I had the plaice with parsley sauce, and it was superb.

The evening whizzed by, sharing conversation with fellow caravaners who'd dined next to us and are stopping on pitch #3. Herself consumed too much fizz than was good for her and after about 8 pints of Morretti I'd moved onto the Costwold Gin.

Late on Mr & Mrs Entitled call in, he clocks me and I clock him and we exchange filthy looks as he ponders on his choice of real ale, before taking a seat in the opposite corner.  About an hour later I get up for a pee and walk bye their table determined to get the dirty look in first.  This caught them off guard and both studied the content on the beer mats until I'd passed.

Having been kicked out at the 10.30pm closing time the crisp fresh air hit us, and the 100 or so meters back to the caravan seemed to take an age.  Climbing the steps was also a struggle.

Thursday 4 November

Unsurprisingly, after last night's shenanigans there was no early start this morning.  It's 10am before I even think of lighting a flame under the kettle, and 2 mugs of tea before a few rashers get thrown into the pan.

Herself has no hangover, she deserves one, but has a head as clear as a bell.  I'm envious!

I'd made some loose arrangements to meet some imaginary friend off the internet.  With our late start to the day I wasn't sure hadn't already made plans.  Not to worry though, after a few messages it was confirmed that they hadn't and we made out way north through the Cotswolds towards Broadway.

Having stopped just before the village to give the dogs a run we've parked in the short stay and are standing on the green by the monument on the lookout for someone we've never actually met.

Herself - I'm looking out, but what am I looking out for?  I don't know what they look like!

Me - Err ........ Well, she's short, he's tall, and he'll be wearing shorts.

Herself - Oh there they are look!

After initial hellos thoughts turn towards finding somewhere warm to have a chat.  Mrs L joins a queue at the door of a teashop.  When I say queue I mean behind 2 old ladies, but it may as well have been a bus load of them as the barrier at the door to control numbers inside saw no signs of being rolled back, the old biddy in charge being more terrifying than bouncers that do the same job at night clubs.  I subconsciously look down at my feet to check I don't have daps on.

We're stood in the queue and Herself and I, despite our very slow start to the day, are feeling a little groggy.  Mr L makes us feel a whole lot worse about ourselves as he informs us he's been on a 50 mile bike ride already today!! At that point in time I would have struggled to do a 50 mile car ride!

We decide to try somewhere else, and just 2 doors away walk into the very welcoming Broadway Hotel.  Thoughts of tea and coffee are ditched in favour of beer and we spend a delightful afternoon discussing all things caravanning, site etiquette, our families and of course other imaginary friends off the internet (there must have been some ears burning in the lands of Facebook, YouTube and Twitter!!)

You can read Deb's excellent blog HERE.

Too soon it's time to say farewell and head back south.  We're cutting it fine for out 6pm reservation in the pub on site.  We were late, but thankfully the establishment is a little quieter tonight so there was no problem and we're sitting down for our evening meal in comparative quietness.

The food was once again superb, but to the barman's disappointment (and his till) we're heading back to the van after a few drinks by 8pm to settle in and watch a film off the dodgy box.

Friday 5 November

I get up for a pee at 7am and lose my spot in the bed to Gwawr.  I'm in no mood to argue with her so settle down up front to tap some keys and disturb Tali as it gets light.  Some research is done for the day's excursion and I look up how to actually get to the actual Thames Head (River not Pub).

The internet tells me it's a traipse over a few muddy fields and you're not actually guaranteed that there will be water coming out of the ground, and the statue marking the spot has been moved downstream some way.  I decide against bothering.

Looking very crisp and fresh out there this morning.

Our early night pays dividends a we're up and ready for a day out after herself does us a full breakfast.  First stop is the nearby Cotswold Airport.  We thread our way through the site roads and I get the feeling that I'm slightly more enthusiastic about the visit than Herself as we park up Toyah under the wings of a 747.

Herself doesn't bother unclipping her seatbelt as I get out to watch a nutter take off sat in a pram strapped to a piece of plywood and a lawn mower engine.

From there we head to Bibury.  Parked up and clipping the dogs onto their leads we cross the footbridge to take a look at Arlington Row and soak up a bit of culture.

We're doing the loop and having crossed the other footbridge up stream we come across the rather welcoming looking Swan Hotel. We decide we've had enough culture and dive inside for some refreshments near the fire.

From here we head down to Cotswold Water Park.  This time of year it's officially closed, but you can still drive in and park up (without paying the usual £15 fee) to walk around.  I must say it looked glorious in the autumn sunshine as we walked along chucking a ball for the dogs.

Back in Toyah and she needs fuel for the tow home in the morning.  To our horror, Tesco in Tetbury has run out and we drove all the way back to the BP garage at Didmarton where I get robbed for diesel at 151p a litre!

The return to site gives me the opportunity to record a "site arrival" video for the campsite.  For future reference note how tight it is getting from the car park past the sleepers and between the building and the tree with protruding roots.

A quiet night was planned.  We were heading over to the pub for our 6pm table reservation, we were going to have a meal with a few quiet drinks and head back for an early night.  That was the plan, honest. 

However, after we'd finished our meal, a gay couple from Cardiff sat down on the adjacent table.  We got chatting and the evening flew by.  It was a smashing evening with conversation flowing and before we knew it we were being kicked out at closing time and staggering back to our vans on site under a clear sky.

Saturday 6 November

It's raining.  No option to sit it out though, so waterproof coat is donned and my Dai cap to set about breaking camp.

By 9.40am we're ready to roll.  With mirrors adjusted we make our way slowly to the awkward site exit.

The sickening crunch stopped us in our tracks.  I'd misjudged it. Concentrating so much on the sleepers in front and the building to our left I'd dragged the caravan onto the protruding roots of the tree behind us.

I swore ........ a lot!

We're wedged tight, and the motorhome behinds us is now getting impatient.  The only option I have is to unhitch, raise the front and go backwards on the motor mover.

The sound of getting free is horrendous.

I manage to limp it around the corner with the mover squealing and grinding to clear the entrance.  I get down onto the wet ground to take a look and it's evident that without any tools I can do nothing except get on the blower to Mayday.  Our predicament took some explaining, but after some time they accepted we were covered and at 10.10 am I got a text giving an ETA of 12.10pm.  We sat in Toyah to enjoy the view!!

12.10pm came and went with no sign of the cavalry arriving.  I get on the blower again and am told they will be another 30 mins.  We're both getting severely pissed off now.  12.45pm and I get a call from a private number on my phone.  It's the technician and I'm assuming it's him going to ask for our precise location as he's nearly with us.

Our jaws drop as he tells us that he's only just been given the call and he's 50 MILES away from us.  What can we do though?

I take another look and confirm to myself that without tools I'm shafted, so sit it out.

To be fair to him though, when he did arrive it took him just 15 mins to loosen the clamps and slide the mover along the chassis, using cable ties to secure the broken cross bar.

It's 2.10pm, some 4 1/2 hours after initially hitching up that we are able to hit the road to head home.  The tow in the wind and rain was horrendous, and the 101 miles took 2hrs 41 mins to cover.  Both tired, annoyed, and feeling pig sick at damaging the van.  Herself tries her best to console me, but I'm gutted by my error.  In my previous 29 years of towing, I've not so much as hit a pitch marker post!

So, there we have it.  A smashing time in  more ways than one.  Still no one was hurt and stuff can be repaired.  when we get out next will depend on when our insurance can get the van sorted.

Electrocuting Dogs in the Cathedral City Where Some are Unable to Park

Rather than regurgitate words, please refer to the previous 3 or 4 blogs for an introduction.  Regular readers will be all to familiar with the spiel by now.

Friday 3 September

Whilst I had a booking in the back pocket, Herself had only confirmed 2 days ago that we would be venturing out.  Clothes and shoes had been loaded in by Herself (this is an important point that will become clear in the coming days) and the food went in late last night following a nocturnal Asda delivery.

We're both working today, but I've bagged an early finish at 3pm to get the van out onto the road and hitched up to Toyah.  Herself finishes at 4.30pm and we're pulling away at just before 5pm.

Wagons Roll !!!!!!

Our joy at being on the road again is short lived as we hit a queue of traffic heading west at Crosshands.  We clear that, cruise for a few miles than join another slow moving 4 mile long snake to clear Carmarthen.

We're already pissed off when my phone rings. I recognise the area code so know it's the site before I answer.  The warden starts off feigning concern.....

 "Are you still coming?  Is everything OK?"

"Yes and no.  We're coming but are gridlocked in Carmarthen."

Uninterested in our reply, he then he gets down to business .......

"You have to be here by 7.45 pm the very latest, otherwise we won't let you on site."

"Ok, cheers.  Thanks for that!"

The old codger in a clapped out Pug 205 on the A40 between Llanddewi Velfrey (The only gay in the village) and Canaston Bridge did nothing to calm my nerves  as the minutes ticked away!  Thankfully I was able to get past him, leaving him chocking in a cloud of black diesel smut and make good progress for the remainder or the tow, pulling in through the site gates at just after 7pm. 

Site arrival video below (filmed a few days later)

Although pleasant enough when he came out, the warden left us waiting 10m minutes ringing the bell while he finished his coffee.

Only 3 pitches available, but he have us the option of moving in the morning if we wished.  No need though as one of those available we would have chose anyway.

We're losing light fast as we start to set up.  Herself asks about the awning and I say I'm not too sure and maybe we'd be better off leaving it until  morning.  With the aquaroll full she asks again.  Once again I say I'm not sure.  I set the toilet and waste up, come back round the corner and Herself has unravelled the awning and is emptying the pole bag!!

She pretends she misheard me, but we've been married long enough for me to know otherwise!

The sun has long since dropped over the horizon by the time I've banged in the last peg and am able to announce to Facebookville that "We is arrived!!"

Thoughts turn to food, and Herself is fancying a bag of chips.  At gone 8pm I'm not rating our chances, but play the game anyway.  St Davids doesn't have a takeaway open of any sort.  Herself seems to recall there was one on the approach to Solva.  Wrong!!  The pizza and burger shack on the campsite in Newgale doesn't appeal either, so we end up back in Haverfordwest before we can procure our evening meal.  38 mile round trip for a bag of chips mind!!

Saturday 4 September.

We wake and it's promising to be a nice day as I take the dogs out for an early morning walk.

Back on site I take the time to appreciate our surroundings before embarking on a period of personal contemplation in the Thor.

It's decided a drink in a beer garden would be a good idea, so after a splash of water to freshen up we head off out.  St Davids is rammed so is given a wide berth, as are the establishments in Solva.  They've some sort of festival going in in Newgale so we don't even slow down!

Climbing the hill in Roch we spy the canopy outside the Victoria Inn so swerve left into the car park.  Herself takes a seat with the dogs and I approach the table wedged in the doorway from which I am to shout my order to the bar.  A lady then comes to take my money at arms length and promises to bring the drinks out to our table.

They're still taking COVID very seriously down here in some places!  I repeat the process once more as we sit and people watch before making tracks back to site.

The Firemountain gets fired up to cremate some Piripiri chicken and ribs for tea and we spend the evening sat outside chatting to campers from adjacent pitches.

They do part seasonal pitches here, and it transpires we've pitched in the middle of them.  Cardi next door introduced himself to us while we were banging pegs in last night.  Will Posh's wife keeps coming over to collect their escaped Border Terrier and Mr Awning but no Poles makes numerous trips to the service point .... all eager to have a chat with the new blood.

They even call Mrs Grinch over from 3 pitches away to have a gawp.  Have we stumbled across something like Stepford Wives here?

Sunday 5 September

Another glorious morning as I get up leaving Herself have a well deserved lengthened kip.  Having lit a flame under the kettle I discovered some Welsh Cakes in the locker and accidentally managed to consume the whole packet to myself.

A friend later advised that they go off after an hour of opening, so I feel somewhat vindicated in my actions!

A few weeks ago, after having consumed 2 torps of Amstel to myself in my man den I made an impulsive purchase.  For years I've used an offcut of 40mm waste pipe to fill up the aquaroll, and it's done me perfectly fine, but the @Colapz fanboys on Twitter had got inside my head.

I'm no fanboy, but @Colapz do do some tidy stuff, as well as reinventing the wheel too much and thinking of "solutions" to problems that don't really exist.  I was impressed by the flexi waste pipe kit I'd bought off them a few years back, if only for the space it saved in the front locker, but feel they've lost their way a bit since then.

Anyway here is their bespoke answer to filling the Aquaroll.

I can confirm it works and gets the water from the tap into the Aquaroll efficiently.  Whether it's any more efficient than my 40mm offcut with elastic on the top is debatable at best.  I've also got concerns over longevity because after just a few days use the expandable hose is showing signs of wear in the creases!

Late morning and we head off out for the day.  Turning left we follow the minor road that hugs the coastline towards Abereiddy.  We've been here before on a rather grey day, and to be honest didn't think much of it.  Our approach today was in bright sunshine under blue skies, but I'm afraid the place still didn't do much for us, so we spun around before reaching the yellow vest demanding £4 to park up.

On we pressed and on entering the village of Trefin, Herself spied some tables outside the Ship Inn with fantastic views over the countryside.  Leaving Herself sat with the dogs I headed off in search of 2 pints of ice cold lager.  After trying all 3 doors it became obvious that the pub was shut, on a Sunday lunchtime mind, and that people sat at the tables were customers of the adjacent tea shop, Caffi y Ragna.

Herself suggests having a light lunch, maybe sharing a sandwich.  I go in to order, the Greek owner hands me a menu and says he'll be out shortly to take our order.

By the time he came out, I don't know why but I'll put it down to a senior moment, I dropped a boo boo.  Herself orders a beef sandwich and the Greek turns to me.  I ask if they're still doing roasts as it's now 3pm, and upon confirmation order one for myself.  Herself's jaw hits the table, I get "the look" and know I've done something wrong but she won't let on what it is yet, saving it for later.

The intention was to drop down into Porthgain, but I somehow missed the turn, so we carried on towards Fishguard. Parking up at Goodwick (Welsh side of the Irish Sea crossing) we had all intentions of getting out for a stroll and letting the dogs have a paddle, until the stench hit our hooters that is!!

With doors closed once more, and whining dogs, we pressed on until Newport, where we followed the signs to the beach.  Ignoring the Pay and Display to our right to pointed Toyah down onto the hard sand, parking up adjacent to the many others before setting off the find the sea at low tide.

After a few lovely hours of ball chucking and paddling we take the road back south towards our home for the week., Where my accidental roast dinner had long since been forgotten, and we have a simple tea of burgers and chips.

With dishes cleared Herself suggests popping out for a drink.  We'd liked the look of a beer garden in the "city" itself while driving through on Friday, so steered Toyah through the lanes and parked up near the cathedral to let the dogs have another good run before taking an outside table in the floodlit beer garden of the St Davids Cross Hotel to enjoy a pint of Whitesands Pale Ale.

Been a full on day today.

Monday 6 September

We wake to another glorious morning.  After breakfast Herself suggest a walk into St Davids, maybe a few beers in assorted beer gardens before walking back.  I voice my doubts because of her knackered knee, but agree to it knowing that there's a shuttle bus we can hop on if it all becomes too much.

We're getting ready when we hit the first snag of the day.  Remember at the beginning I said Herself packed the shoes and clothes?

Well!!

I'll admit they do look similar, and they're the same brand, but there's no hiding from the fact that I've only got one of my Timberland walking boots with me.  Walking in daps it is then!

She gave it a good go, but there was no hiding from the fact that her knackered knee wasn't coping very well and after just a  mile we had to turn around and rehatch plans for the day.

Back on site Herself's walking boots are exchanged for flip flops and my daps for Jesus creepers before we jump into Toyah heading for Solva.  The plan was to take a walk along the harbour bed (tide out), let the dogs have a cooling dip and then have a drink outside the Harbour Inn.

Solva was rammed so we opted for plan B.  Herself has decided she needs a decent pair of walking sandals and with Google promising a Mountain Warehouse in Haverfordwest we park up in the Riverside multi before setting off on the hunt.  I'll put it down to another senior moment, that and trying to look at maps on my phone screen in the sun, but for some reason we thought the shop was in the Riverside complex.  Why we didn't look it up again when we couldn't find it I don't know, but returned to the car empty handed.  Later back on site, Cardi gleefully informed us it is on Bridge Street in the town.

It's hot and the dogs need a cooling dip.  First off we head to Nolton Haven.  We know it's dog friendly.  Dropping down the hill it's evident we won't be stopping as the beach is very busy.  Busy small beaches and loose running dogs don't mix.  We try Druidston Haven but the steep rocky path down from the road says we're not going down there.  Back to Newgale but we can't find a path over the pebble bank that Herself will manage without twisting her knee so I carry on.

In Solva things appear to have quietened down a bit and I squeeze Toyah's bulk into an empty space.  We didn't take in much of our surroundings as we headed down onto the harbour bed and the freshwater stream running its length to low tide.

The dogs had a good play in the stream and we walked as far as Herself's knee would permit.  Walking back up the ramp we're gasping and I can almost taste the ice cold lager as it hits the back of my throat .....right up until the very moment I clock all the doors locked shut and take a closer look at the contents of the occupied tables!!  Bloody closed!!!

Back to St Davids we head and after parking just above the cathedral the dogs are clipped on and we head straight for the busy beer garden at the St Davids Cross Hotel.  We bag a table in dappled shade and sit down to enjoy a few cool ciders as the world passes by.

We had plenty to watch too. Immediately adjacent to our table on the other side of the wall a Ford based camper crashed into the side of a Volvo XC60.  We stopped for another while the drama unfolded in front of us.

Back on site I cremate a few lumps of Ribeye for our tea and we sit out in the recliners until, the sun drops under the horizon.

Tuesday 7 September

Another fine morning and promising to be a hot one today.  A morning on site is decided on, recliners set up and bacon rolls taken sat out front watching God's waiting room creak into life.

Our pitch is just yards from a little used service point on site.  This has the distinct advantage for me of being not far to lug fresh and grey water, put rubbish in the bins and empty the toilet cassette.  We've not long washed up and are settling down when a rather significant disadvantage presents itself.

It whiffed just a bit!

After a while Herself suggests something to me.  I hadn't been listening and rather that admit this I guessed and got it totally wrong.  A short while after, instead of relaxing in the shade I'm sat in Toyah waiting for the off.  Herself wants to know what's up, especially as not 10 minutes earlier she'd suggested stopping on site for a bit and then going out for a spin during the hottest part of the day!

With no firm plan other than to head in the general direction of higher ground on the Preseli Hills we set off.  Firstly taking the A487 back to Haverfordwest and then the B4239 north.  Just 4 miles along the B road we see a brown tourist sign for Scolton Manor Country Park so swing left onto the dusty track for a mooch.

Parking wasn't cheap at £3.50 for just 2 hours, but there appeared to be loads to do here if you had children with you.  We clipped the dogs on and had a look at the restored steam locomotive and wandered around the grounds of the Victorian manor house admiring some of the sculptures.  Herself also bagged a good bunch of fresh runner beans from their farm shop.

Onwards we went along the B4239 further and further from civilisation when Herself suggests she may be hungry and could we stop somewhere for lunch.  I give her a sideways glance knowing that she's setting a challenge!

The hedgerows flew by until I spot a brown sign for Tafarn Sinc. I say to Herself that any pub with its own brown sign has hot to be worth a shot, in hope more than anything else!  Swinging a right onto the B4313 we follow the road for a short while to Rosebush and turn left up a track.

At the end of the track Herself was less than impressed with the bright red wrinkly tin shed that presented itself to her.  Glancing through a gap in the hedge at the beer garden we can see a range of ghostly looking dummies set up as some sort of display.

I get a "Really?" but manage to persuade Herself to stop for a drink just for the novelty value. We're being watched very closely by the locals as we take a table directly opposite a mock up of a station underneath the imposing red shack.

I go inside to order some drinks and an somewhat taken aback by the décor.  Wooden floors covered in saw dust set the scene with a few log burners space as to heat the building in colder winter months.  I start to worry as I clock the signage on the walls, primarily in Welsh.  While I can get by, I far from fluent in the "Language of Heaven"

Several deep breaths are taken while I wait for someone to appear on the other side of the bar, and I'm rehearsing my lines in my head.

"Dau beint ..." I point to the Staropramen tap "os gwelwch yn dda."

She got two glasses and set to work with a knowing smile.  The next bit wouldn't be quite as easy.  I started off well with "Ydych chi'n ..." but then lost my way and reverted to Wenglish " serving bwyd?"

I looked nervously up at the castrating pincers hanging from the wooden beam as she laughed "Yes we are bach, take a menu and I'll be down in a few minutes to take your order."

Little did we know that we'd stumbled across quite a famous little pub that has featured a few times on TV.  Set out in the wilds at the foot of the Preseli Hills, this little pub is owned and run by the community.  Initially built in 1876 to accommodate tourists on the old branch of the Great Western Railway the place has resisted all modern day whims.

What a find though, we thoroughly enjoyed a few hours soaking up an atmosphere of years gone by.

We tale the B4313 back to Fishguard and follow the A487 back down the coast to site where we spend the evening sat out front having a slurp until the sun set on another lovely day

Wednesday 8 September

We had some rain overnight, and when I take the dogs for their early morning walk the skies are looking quite ominous.

Just after breakfast it starts to rain, and so it continued throughout the morning as Herself took herself back to bed for a bit while I tapped some keys in the awning.  Tali is happy to have a rest.

Early afternoon and it's eased off a little.  We need supplies, so rather than pay way over the odds in CKs again we head for Morrisons in Haverfordwest, before following the lanes to Broadhaven where the dogs get to have a good run on the beach - much to the annoyance of the metal detectors.

It's still holding off ..... just, as we make our way back west so we stop off for a pint at the Pelcomb Inn.  OK, it didn't have the same novelty value as Tafarn Sinc, and the outside tables are sited right next to the busy A487, but the Staropramen tasted just as good.

The rain returns as we approach St Davids and stayed with us as we cooked our tea indoors for the first time this week. Last light is approaching as it eases off and we take the opportunity to have a little jaunt following the narrow lanes to St Justinians.  Once there I realise it's not where I thought we were heading so turned around to follow a completely different set of narrow lanes to nearby Porthclais Harbour.

It's deadly still as we park up Toyah and take a look at the lime kilns on the quayside before taking a seat and soaking up the tranquillity and stillness of the water.

The rain didn't hold off for long though, and by the time we're back on site it's proper tamping it down.  And that is how it stayed for the rest of the evening as we cwtched up in the comfort of the van.

Thursday 9 September

I had a restless night last night, thinking things over after having had a "bad news" phone call from work, so got up at 5am to console myself with a mug of tea and a few joking Hobnob biscuits.

Looking outside  as the day dawns, when I say dawns i really mean gets a little less dark outside, the heat and sunshine of our first 4  days here are all but a distant memory as I put on my waterproof and Mongo hat to take the dogs out for a walk.

All was going well as I traipsed through the adjacent field.  The dogs did their business, the ponies kept their distance and the hat was keeping the water off my hearing aids.  Gwawr is impatient when we get to gates, I know this and should have anticipated the problem.  But I didn't.

The dogs got a bit ahead of me, mainly due to me stopping the take the above selfie, and reached the gate first.  Tali stood patiently while Gwawr starts to pace, then she went for it.  My head slows everything down as she tries to squeeze under the fence.  The electric fence that's in place to keep the ponies in.  Her tail brushes against the lower wire and all of a sudden she's spooked.  She's darting around and looking at me for an explanation!

I'm now hoping against hope that she'll calm down before we get back, so take the scenic route to buy me some time.  Herself knows her own dog.  My diversion didn't work, and I'm immediately asked what I've done to her.

"YOU ELECTROCUTED MY DOG ????????"

Herself had wanted to light a few candles in the cathedral, but it appeared that the rest of Pembrokeshire did too.  The first 2 car parks in the vicinity were full, but I find a space in the third.  It'll be tight but I attempt to squeeze Toyah into it.  Things aren't made easy by a blue Alfa Romeo Giulietta parked diagonally across the adjacent space with the off side front wheel just over the while line and wing protruding well into "my" space.

I'd first clocked the disapproving looks from the grey haired git while I shuffled to line up as he stopped on return from the payment machine.  Herself had got out to guide me in but was starting to doubt our success.  The grey haired git approaches to put his ticket on the dash of the Alpha and I politely ask

"Would you be able to straighten up your car in the space please?"

With disgust he looks at me and replies..

"No, you should drive such a fat car!"

"Pardon? You're parked over the line."

"You shouldn't be driving that thing!"

The red mist is now coming down, and I let myself down a bit.

"You ignorant tw*t! You ignorant tw*t! There was no need for that, I've only asked you to park properly!"

He now looks to his wife for support who stomps towards us shouting

"Did you just call my husband a prat?"

"No love, I called him an ignorant tw*t!"

With his wife by his side he gets brave again

"You should get a thinner car!!"

"And you should learn how to park you judgmental wan*er!!"

Fuming I was as we headed to the car park outside the "city".  It had upset me and Herself was pleading with me to let it go as we walked down the hill towards the bustling centre on market day.

I've been after a new daysack so popped my head into Mountain Warehouse, and came straight back out mumbling about inflated prices.  Herself senses I'm still bubbling and suggests stopping off at St Davids Cross for a break.  I go in and order 2 pints of lager.  We've been here a few times this week and not taken much note of the bar prices, but I did today, and when the young lad behind the bar cheerfully taps in £12.40 into the contactless machine he very nearly had the backlash from the car park fiasco.

Herself thinks I've simmered down enough to be let loose in public again so we go to brows a few of the shops.  I firstly go into the chocolate shop and come back out tutting.  No was am I paying £11 for some chocolate in a box smaller that a box of Swan Vesta!

We didn't brows any longer, instead opting for the steps up into the beer garden of The Bishops for a spot of lunch.

It was drizzling when we get here and the plan was to park up leaving the dogs in the car while we went into the cathedral. The altercation in the car park did us a favour really because while sat here it opened up and got quite warm, too warm if the dogs had been left!

Refreshed, we head down through the arch to admire the cathedral from above before turning around for the climb back up to the car park.

We stop off at the site briefly for a change of clothes and head north through the lanes to the harbour at Porthgain.  It's a delightful little place and we walk out onto the sea wall under the brick kilns before retracing our steps back up into the hamlet.

I'd like to say that we had a mooch in the art gallery and little studios, but I can't.  Instead we opted to climb the steps onto the terrace outside The Sloop Inn soaking up the atmosphere while partaking in some refreshments.

Served up at our awning table tonight was a rather superb Surf 'n' Turf platter.  Sirloin steaks, fiery king prawns, scampi, onion rings and real chips.

Our pitch backs onto a private site on the other side of a low hedge.  When we returned from our day out a pair of campervans had pitched up behind us.  You know there maybe noise issues when they pitch up with doors facing each other, canopies out.  Early evening was bad enough with doors continually being slammed shut and the chatter got louder and louder with each ring pull.  With fading light a fire pit gets dragged out and our heart sinks at the thought of a crowd gathering around it singing "Come by here my Lord" until the early hours just 9ft from our bedroom window.

It's not often I'm happy to see rain when away on holiday, but lets just say the corners of my mouth turned up when it started hammering on the roof at 10pm and the firepit sizzled out.

Friday 10 September

Grey and gloomy again this morning.  My screaming bladder woke me at 7am and I lost my place in bed next to herself to Gwawr.  ¬I tap some keys for an hour or so, resisting the packet of joking Hobnobs in the locker above my head until Gwawr is ready to leave Herself's side to go for a walk.

The ponies are close to the path this morning so Tali and Gwawr are clipped on in plenty of time for me to avoid a repeat of yesterdays electrical related mishap.

After breakfast we head towards Haverfordwest to do a little gift shopping.  A bit more than usual too,  Since my last blog the number of grand children we have has doubled.  Beastie now has a little baby brother not two weeks old yet.

Parking up at Riverside multi we make tracks for the bridge to cross over onto Bridge Street, passing benches full of locals drinking Stella from cans.

Let's just say that the shopping centre in H'ford is uninspiring, and that is being kind.  We did manage to procure some gifts for Beastie and Bwmps, and Herself eventually found a pair of walking sandals before we returned to the car within an hour.

Time now to do something for the dogs so we follow the signs to Broadhaven.  The dogs once again have a good run and a paddle before we walk back up the sands to the welcoming Galleon Inn for refreshments.

As we approach  the site it looks like it's been dryer out here that back along the coast, and the roads are dryer too.  We start to get our hopes up that the awning maybe dry enough to pack away tonight rather than chance overnight rain or wait for dew to dry off tomorrow.

It was, and by 6.30pm it's down and packed away dry (those that do not caravan would never understand the joy that this could bring) and we're having quick showers before heading off out for food.

The St Davids Cross gets our custom, Herself talking me round despite their prices, as she really like the look of their beer battered cod the other night.  Service was quick, by `the time I return to the table after making the order and collecting our drinks the waitress had already been with the condiments and cutlery.  No sooner have I had my first gulp than the food arrived.

We're back out of the gate in well under an hour and heading for Whitesands beach to watch the sun set over North Bishop island.

Saturday 11 September

With the bulk of breaking camp done yesterday evening we have a slow start, but are hitched up and ready to roll by 9.45am.

Exit through the lanes was a little hairy as we met the day trippers heading to Whitesands, but after that it was plain sailing all the way home except for the expected chaos required to clear Carmarthen these days.

Nevertheless, it still took us one and three quarter hours to complete the 73 mile tow home.

Fantastic week away on the most western tip of south Wales.  We raked over some old coals and discovered some new places to us.  We also remembered how expensive everything is in St Davids and how similar that part of Pembrokeshire is to the far west of Cornwall that we love so  much.

In the words of the legend that was Ray Gravell ..... West is Best.