Going Pembroke: Tiny Wales

Day two and a longish drive after exercise with the Vet (legs bums and tums plus a cheeky cardio and abs finisher). Cheeky being apposite because at some point during the session my right buttock began deflating, and the abs exercises were accompanied by what seemed like a persistent whistle, like a referee on repeat.

We headed through Haverfordwest – which is a little like Welsh hell – if you find yourself going through Haverfordwest/hell keep going – and North to the coast at Porthgain. A coffee and a few snaps later – the ubiquitous shiny teeth challenge, included – we climbed 49 uneven steps, jacked me up to change my by now flat buttock and headed for the blue lagoon.

First up, though were these 19th century industrial ruins, built to deliver crushed stone and slate via a series of terrifying shutes into barges that were towed to where they could more easily delivered to road builders. The noise dust and ever present danger must have made this nowadays cute little cove rather more dystopian.

Beyond the skies grew larger and the cliffs craggier. The Pembrokeshire coast that we’ve tasted isn’t quite as up and down as its Cornish and Devon equivalent but the regular rebooting of views makes it a delight.

We soon reached another sandy cove at Aberreidi Bay and the referenced blue lagoon. This manmade cove was blasted into existence one hundred and fifty years ago to create a still water pool from which to load the cut slate mined nearby. Now it is home to paddleboarders

and a few wetsuited water bombers, whose splashes suggested they too would have issues with their buttocks later.

Having taken advantage of the fact that Wales’s latest restrictions on gatherings weren’t due to kick in until Monday by sharing some fish and chips with the Textiliste and Dog, we detoured to the smallest city in the UK. St David‘s is as far west was you can go, in truth, a cutesy place that is pretty much the stunning Cathedral, the ruined Bishop’s Palace and bell house.

As I stood looking at the cathedral grounds, I found my jealous gene raising its ugly head.

Why is it that they can grow, with no doubt minimal attention such a stunning green lawn? Is benign neglect the answer for my lawn? Or should I bury some bodies to fertilise it? I doubt I’ll be able to consecrate it, though so maybe that’s what I really lack: faith in its essential verdant fecundity. Ah well I have a year to find a solution. Meanwhile I can bore Dog while I take endless photos.

After St David’s we meandered down the coast appreciating this land’s natural beauty. We British don’t do humungous mountains, thundering torrents, or death defying canyons. We’re a hill, river and valley people. Or maybe that should be hillock, stream and small dip in the ground people. Like our weather, our landscape doesn’t do extremes. It’s life lived in the small. Maybe when we rebrand ourselves it should be as Cosy Britain, because that about sums up the essential snugness of this place.

About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline. I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy. I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
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27 Responses to Going Pembroke: Tiny Wales

  1. Mary Smith says:

    I suspect the mystery of the verdant lawn is simply to do with Wales getting more rain than you do.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. willowdot21 says:

    I agree with Mary about the lawn! You could always put astro turf down for the Wedding as a temporary measure!
    Holiday looks fantastic, it’s the nearest I am going to get to one at the moment. Having to shield for my op which looks like it could be months away! Hey ho, I am grateful to tag along with you guys 💜

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Elizabeth says:

    I loved getting to imagine hiking with your family. Since we have such “scientific” leaders of our country I expect it will be the end of 2021 before we get farther afield than the yard!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. The buttocks looked tight enough in that picture

    Liked by 3 people

  5. You seem to have had lovely weather – lucky you!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Thank you for sharing this super walk. The area looks amazing

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Darlene says:

    Looks fabulous!! Dog looks happy with all the walking and attention.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. noelleg44 says:

    What a fabulous day! That lagoon would have me in it in a cold minute (and probaby in cold water, too). Did you maybe think that green lawn is due to the fertilizer that lies beneath?

    Liked by 1 person

  9. JT Twissel says:

    And lovely weather too!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. arlingwoman says:

    What a lovely holiday with sun and cliffs and sea and cathedrals and family and Dawg of course, who looks happy just to be along with his people.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. George says:

    What a stunning day out. Hope the new buttock is holding up. I think dead bodies must be the secret to a verdant lawn. We’re all going to be very suspicious if your next garden post shows lush green swards.

    Liked by 1 person

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