Pembrokeshire Easter

And Lo Jesus did something and came out of a cave there was much hysterical outcry which continued on for centuries after this magic trick, and the people decided to mark the occasion by burying chocolate eggs, as before becoming a carpenter he was a chocolatier. Or that’s what it says in the book of spells and magick.

Happy Easter, may you all get far too drunk with your families and say something you shouldn’t to a distant relative. Tesco is shut but the pubs are open, but unless you’ve booked a table then even the ropiest boozer won’t provide you with food and shelter, you’ll have to make do with the ploughman’s in a bag.

We’ve come to Pembrokeshire, near to a little town called Newport where the guardian sells out before 9am on a Saturday and Boden stripes and Barbour jackets with piss catching deck shoes are the uniform of the over paid life coach who seemingly holidays here. We’re about 3 miles outside the town, on a small holding, with a separate converted mill which we’re staying in for the week. It’s got a hot tub and 2 bedrooms, underfloor heating which no one knows how to use and a boiler providing the heat, which again no one can work out. The Rolley Poly man (RPM) who owns the place has given us all strict instructions as to how to use the stuff, but after a 4 hour drive down here no one was interested in listening, and so things which we don’t need to know were missed. As a result the telly has some sort of audio descriptions on the programmes which I can only assume are for the blind. And even the youngest can not work out how to turn it off, “as Jessica looked thoughtfully at Jacob, the picture fell off the wall” that type of thing.

The RPM is a big fan of dropping the names of various shopkeepers and people who operate the burger van in the next lay by up. Steve, apparently, makes the best bacon and egg baguette in Wales, the eggs just right and the bacon on the correct side of crispy, if we fancy “slumming it” A bacon and egg baguette! I ask you. Any way after the Easter festivities have passed I shall pop up and see what all the fuss is about. The pub 300m down the road from us, is sadly lacking in the ability to provide anything other than pretty weak food, thus far. Visited once, food poor, a chilli spicy but with no other redeeming factors and rice that tasted as though it had been cleaned in distilled water before cooking and had any flavour removed, the white rice almost blinding the diner. Mrs T’s sausage casserole looked like it came from a can, and the chicken Thai curry had an absence of any sort of fowl.

So, now we head down to St Dogmaels, and the Ferry inn for a Sunday lunch which I booked in advance under instructions from the RPM, which will give us time to contemplate wether or not to risk the salvation Inn later for a burger or to walk down the river to Nevern where another pub exists.

Happy Easter Egg fans


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