Sir Benfro

So, to Pembrokeshire, for a week's holiday, following on from the family gathering to celebrate a Golden Wedding.  Since this coincided with the first weekend of the school holidays, we found ourselves part of a great migration, as convoys of caravans made their way to the beaches of the South-West

The weather followed a familiar coastal pattern of damp, sometimes misty, mornings, clearing to bright sunshine in the afternoons.  Some five years ago we were here before, a bit further south.  This time, we had booked an apartment near Solva.

A visit to St David's confirmed how very small it is for a city, and how very overrun by day-trippers.  We set out on our first walk around the headland from St Justinian's. 

And on that very first walk we came across a group of choughs.  Sadly, against the light, their red legs and beaks are not visible.

Just outside Solva is a working woollen mill.  We had visited this last time, but it has been brought back to life now.

  They specialise in stair carpets woven to order, but also produce that unmistakable double faced Welsh tweed.  Here it is on the loom. 

The chains here are used to set the pattern.

This is part of a Jaquard loom.  One can only marvel at the ingenuity and the patience required.

This is a winder and set of scales used to calculate the heft of a particular yarn.

As for their shop - well, items may have been purchased!

Two days...

Friday last, it was my turn for visiting the sick.  I left the house at 9am, caught the community bus to the station and the 9.23 to Liverpool Street.  Across London to Paddington, and a longish wait for the train to Cheltenham.  Taxi from the station to the hospital, for a forty-five minute visit with the step-mother.  Then, all the above in reverse, arriving home at 8.45 pm.

How can you tell that someone is on the mend? Well, a resumption of cantankerousness  - (is there such a word?) - probably proves it.  A point to be borne in mind for one's own future, perhaps.

On the journey, time enough to read a whole novel - "Quiet as a Nun" by Antonia Fraser, not a challenging read.  And to knit a pair of mittens, for a Lakota child.

Sunday, we were in a different mode.  In the morning we made a quick trip to a garden centre to pick up the ubiquitous folding chairs.  After lunch we were assigned to the Coffee Shop at Paycocke's  for the whole afternoon, serving up cream teas.  Home and a quick change, before we set off again, this time as visitors, for the Music Evening. 

Sitting in that lovely garden as the sun set, eating a plate of lasagne and drinking chilled white wine, while a string quartet played popular classics - ah, yes!  What it is to be retired and not to have to think of Monday on Sunday evenings.