River Gwaun

Our beautiful weather had evaporated overnight.
We woke to an overcast and foggy morning but this wasn’t really an issue as we were heading off to Mumbles (a 12 minute drive away) for the Memorial Meeting this morning at 11am.
We arrived at Mumbles, which still meets in the same hall that Bro. John Thomas spoke in all those years ago. Its only a smallish hall, but Bro. Micheal Owen informed us that 300 people packed into the hall to hear ‘the good doctor’ give a public address.
The meeting at Mumbles really felt like ‘home’. Apart from the Owens, we knew a number of others there, including Bro. Stephen and Sis. Ruth Palmer and Mike Movassaghi who would be known to many of the younger ones. Mike visited Australia with his brother Duncan (Spunky Dunc) many years ago, and he is now married with several children.

Today was a special day for Mumbles. For the first time they held a picnic lunch in the grounds of the nearby Norman-era castle (doesn’t every ecclesia have a 900 year old castle in their backyard?) where a short talk was given on the significance of the 75 year anniversary of Israel becoming a nation again. This was followed by a game of ‘Rounders’ for the kids (well everyone, really).
Interestingly, the Welsh almost completely shun cricket as a sport. Their go-to sport is ‘Rounders’ which to all intents and purposes appears indistinguishable to Softball to my untrained eye.
At this point, we bid farewell to our wonderful friends here in The Gower as it was time to continue our journeys. John Owen had given us 3 towns of interest that were ‘mandatory viewing’ before we drove to Fishguard which was our final destination for tonight. “It will delay your arrival a little, but its worth it. And the forecast is that the weather should be fine”.
Unquestioningly I followed his advice and as we drove away towards our first point of interest - the quaint little town of Tenby - visibility started to reduce a little and there was the odd shower of rain. Never-the-less we pressed on and Tenby came into view with a temporary clearance from rain and a very welcome coffee stop down near the harbour.
It was now quite cold, so hunkering down in what was effectively a ‘hole-in-the-wall’ coffee shop was very welcome.
Fortified by the warming coffee - “Make it a double shot, please” we ventured outside to snap some photos. I wanted to take a quick look around the other side of the harbour wall but Loss was more keen for a quick restroom stop, so we parted company for a few minutes.
After snapping the required photos, I made sure I kept moving as I thought the plummeting temperatures could be about to trigger a Welsh equivalent of a ‘sheep grazier’s alert’.
As I made my way towards the WC’s a gentleman unexpectedly called out to me “Are you looking for your wife? She’s just in there in the toilets”.
How did he know that Loriene was my wife? Was it because we again were the only two people in jackets that were anything other than black, grey or dark blue?

“Oh, yes” I replied “But how did you know she was my wife?” I asked.

In his lilting Welsh accent he replied “Ah, because she came up here looking and sounding a little desperate when she realised that these here are pay toilets and she said her husband had all the money 😳and she had no cash, nothing at all, so I gave her 40p so she could . . . . “

I thanked my new Welsh friend profusely as he disappeared up the hill and then I waited nervously outside the conveniences.
Pay toilets are an annoyingly common occurrence here, but this time things could escalate beyond a simple annoyance. The subsequent conversation once Loriene emerged could go in a number of directions and most of those possibilities were not generating happy thoughts in my mind. While I was trying to formulate some inadequate responses as to why ready cash or other lines of credit had not been provided for such emergency situations, the ever deteriorating weather gave me the answer I needed. Disarm by distraction and protection.

As she emerged from the facilities and before she had a chance to say anything, I rushed up throwing my arms and coat around her in a Sir Walter Raleigh-like gesture, exclaiming how cold it is out here now and for her own health and safety I must get her back inside the warmth of the car immediately.
My plan seemed to work, because so stunned was she by my magnanimous actions that not a word was spoken about the incident.
Or perhaps that was because it was so cold she couldn’t move her lips.

We drove on to Solva which was the next destination on John’s ‘must-do’ list. I’m sure it is a pleasant town, but it was difficult to even see to the end of the little harbour due to the drizzle, lowering cloud base and the patchy airconditioning in the car at slow speeds. It was too unpleasant to contemplate getting out of the car, and with no thought of ignoring John’s advice (!) we motored on to our third interim destination - St. David’s.

The drizzle was steady, the temperatures were low but we ventured out for a brisk walk from the car park to the historic Cathedral. Interestingly, St. David is officially the U.K.‘s smallest city (pop. about 1800), but it is designated as a city rather than a town or village because it has a Cathedral.
As we arrived at its doors, they were being locked - the afternoon service has just concluded - but the caretaker must have seen our need to go inside to warm up and dry off a little - so he kindly reopened the Cathedral briefly just for us.

It was now quickly back to the car for our final leg of the trip to Fishguard. Thoughts of a warm welcome by the hotel proprietors followed by a hearty Welsh meal in a warm venue were driving us on.

We needed some milk and found a service station on the outskirts of town. We commented to the young lady behind the counter about the rapid deterioration in weather today.
‘Ah’ she said ‘Yesterday was lovely, but now we’re paying for it’
Slightly puzzled, we asked for clarification.
‘Oh, welcome to Wales. You get one nice day, then you get punished for a week’

When we arrived in Fishguard proper, the town seemed deserted. We pulled up as close to the Abergwaun Hotel as we could, but it was not possible to park right at their door. I left Loss in the car as I made my way to the front door. It was locked, with instructions to ring a number to gain access.
I rang the number, which went to voicemail. I left a message and stood in the cold drizzle contemplating a possible ‘plan B’ if no one rang me back. Eventually my call was returned, access was gained and we moved our gear up into the room.

Dinner options were looking pretty limited. There was a fish and chips takeaway shop that had a sign saying ‘open’. I walked up and peered in. The lights were off, the chairs stacked on tables, but when I pushed the door, it was indeed open.
I looked around for a moment but there was clearly no one inside. I closed the door and turned around. The owner was in his car behind me, with the engine running. He called to me -
“Sorry sir, now we are closed for the day”
“Sure, no problem” I replied.
I then watched him drive off for the night, clearly not worried about his door being unlocked and the ‘Open’ sign still on display.

However, all was not lost. There was a small pub right next door to our accommodation which had some lights on and was displaying a menu. We dashed through the drizzle to the door hoping for a hearty meal in a warm and dry dining area.
On opening the door, we immediately understood why the streets were deserted - the pub was heaving with people. As we pushed through the crowds we searched in vain for a table inside. There was one vacant table but it was reserved, probably for people who wore darkly coloured jackets.
“There are some tables outside, sir”

Hmmmm.

See the last photo for our dining experience tonight.

I had to delay typing up this blog for a while until my fingers could move in the commanded directions on the keyboard.Read more