Saturday 25 July 12:20 pm – Hendy-gwyn/ Whitland Train Station
It storms – wet and windy – overnight. As I lay in the dry comfort of my hotel bed I think of my French cycling companions and hope they’ve found a good camping spot for the night and are comfortable despite the weather.
I wake around six to sunshine and clear skies.
A warm golden light falls on pastel coloured buildings and shimmers off the sea. An arch of golden sand awaits visitors.
Wales has been a hard place but I like it. I’m thinking of circling back this way. I could visit Dublin, Derry and Belfast (by means other than cycling) then take the train to Cork to ride the south coast back to Rosslare and then ferry back to Wales?
Arriving in Fishguard, I ride up the inevitable hill into town to find my hostel. I lunch at the Gourmet Pig and linger over the newspaper. I don’t remember when last I did this – just sit, quietly, no need or desire to get anywhere. Nowhere to be, nothing to do, no closing time to beat or X number of kilometres to ride.
It’s really nice.
I walk to Lower Fishguard – the old fishing port . It’s full of narrow winding streets lined with cottages whose kitchen windows overlook the road.
I visit an ancient little pub. Once this would have been filled with fishermen. It’s a bit quiet this afternoon. A few locals come and go, taking the piss out of one another and the bar keep. I don’t understand much of what is said, given their Welsh accents, but they are definitely taking the piss.
And now I’m waiting for the showing of Mr Holmes to start in this small, volunteer run theatre, Theatr Gwaun. The popcorn is slightly sweet – which is weird, but that’s travel for you. There are pictures of what’s-his-name, the actor on Brothers and Sisters, the Welsh one, on the lobby walls. (That’d be Matthew Rhys – probably better known, now, from The Americans.)
By this time tomorrow I’ll be at Cornelia’s. From Rosslare I’ve booked the train to … someplace … where she’s meeting me with the van.
Sigh.
Good sigh.