I have good night’s sleep in a very comfortable bed.  Instructions for breakfast came with a lot of warnings about not letting the dogs out, the risks of dog poo on the floor and the friendly but huge dog that barks a lot.  Rather than risk any of this, I take longer to get going than normal and head down after 08:00.

Breakfast is pseudo-continental and I have (for me) a very healthy breakfast: coffee, orange juice, Greek yoghurt and mixed fruit.  I chat away with my host, explaining what I’m doing including the Welsh “things” that I’m looking for.  The idea of “curry half ‘n’ half” is new to her and I’m forced to show her on t’Internet that apparently this is a common thing in Wales.  I do my dishes (which surprises her) and then it’s time to head off.

The day started bright and sunny – it’s always good to see Sunshine on Neath. (I thought I’d get the first dad joke out of the way nice and early. For those of my readers who are young, this is a reference to the Proclaimers song – and musical – Sunshine on Leith).  It may have started sunny, but it quickly becomes overcast and threatening – which may count as pathetic fallacy as that’s exactly how I feel towards the car.  It has now done something which is beyond the pale – the satnav highlights McDonalds.  No other eateries, just fucking McDonalds.  I may have to reprogram it with a crowbar.

I head for the coast and The Mumbles.  Sole reason is the stupid name.  Apparently it’s a bastardisation of the French word for breasts.  Either they have eroded a lot in the last couple of centuries, or those French ladies are very strangely built, as you will see later.

As I drive through Swansea, I realise that I forgot to have a safety pee before I left and I really need to go.  Typically, nothing resembling a toilet appears (the bloody satnav doesn’t show anything useful like that!) and I complete the journey clenching my knees together and trying to use the Vulcan discipline of Kolinar to stop an embarrassing accident. 

This seems to work and I park up, before walking down the road to The Mumbles. 

There are a few of us – and all seem to be grey-haired, so I do wonder if this is a Crumblies Only zone.  I am disabused of this when some git jogs past. 

At the end is the typical end of pier fare, and the mandatory Ferris Wheel.  There is also a café, so I nip in there for a cappuccino and an unhealthy snack. I ask her if they have any Welsh cakes and she has the good grace to look embarrassed when replying in the negative and saying that they don’t really have anything Welsh.  I make do with carrot cake, which is preceded by a highly relieving visit to the facilities.

It’s spitting with rain while I’m in the café, which luckily stops just as I head outside.  I get some shots of the Mumbles and the MFW (Mandatory Ferris Wheel). 

I stop to hope that their approach to safety exceeds their ability to spell. 

I head on back to the car and the weather stays mercifully dry.

I then head off to Rhossili and Worm’s Head.  On the way, it becomes clear that 20mph is a standard speed limit in most built up areas.  It is just as clear that no-one in Wales pays the slightest attention to it.  I’m tailgated all through one 20mph zone – so much so that I wonder if the speed limit is actually 30mph.  But when we move into 30 and then 40 mph, the tailgating continues.  Of course, the slightest twitch over the speed limit gets the damned car pinging at me, so I have to live with a nice Welsh person trying to climb into my boot.  I get some relief when the satnav in the car thinks it’s 60mph, when in fact it’s only 40.

On the way, the weather definitely meets the definition of “changeable”.  There are a couple of really heavy showers and I begin to be concerned that I might not be able to walk out to Worm’s Head.  On arrival, it’s looking slightly better and to my delight, it’s a National Trust property.  Huzzah!  I’ve been a member for four years and this is literally the first time that I’ve got any advantage from it.  Because the weather is still lurking, I head into the gift shop where I resist the temptation to buy pre-packaged Welsh Cakes and Bara Brith.  However, I do snag two bookmarks, including an ecologically responsible one that is make from recycled blankets.

By the time I go back outside, the sky has cleared a bit, the sun is out and I head down to Worm’s Head.  There are some stunning views here along the sweep of the bay.  At the head itself, there is a section called the Devil’s Bridge, which is only accessible at low tide – I’m not going to try that.  I wander down the path, getting some shots of photogenic horses and looking back to the bluff behind me where two paragliders are engaging in what looks like some bizarre mating dance.

My back is fine … initially.  As a result, I go too far and by the time I get back it’s definitely complaining.  It’s not the only thing complaining – Hamish is grumpy as he wanted to take a foal home with him.

I head back the way I came, then divert across the Gower peninsula as I head for Carmarthen.  This route is definitely less well travelled and has some fascinating single track roads – although they are as nothing to one who has experienced the NC500!  The route really opens out and there are some fantastic views across the Gower, though with nowhere to stop so that I can take photographs.  You’ll just have to imagine it.

The car and I seem to have entered some form of entente cordiale and it only stalls once on the way.

Carmarthen has a fairly famous castle, though it is described in the Rough Guide as “disappointing”.  Unfortunately, I have to agree.  Very little of it is left.  It was clearly huge and the remains are crammed alongside some tiny shop-filled streets. 

The atmosphere in Carmarthen is strangely subdued, though there are some signs of humour at least.

I wander around to find somewhere to eat and as I do, I discover that Carmarthen is the hair cutting capital of Wales.  There are barbers, boutiques, hairdressers, hair salons and one which described itself as an “authentic barbers”.  Most seem to have no customers, just staff who peer out the door desperate for someone to practice their arts on.

Eventually, I walk into The Boars Head. The outside looks like a right dump, but it has a decent menu on display and so I decide to take a chance.  Inside, it is much better, with a definite predilection for the dark wood style of decoration.  I have a chat with a fairly harried looking barmaid and I settle for their “Famous Carvery Baguette” which comes with stuffing, roast potatoes and gravy for dipping.  What is doesn’t come with is lamb.  Despite being in Wales, my choices are beef, chicken or a mixture of both.  I order the mix and when it arrives, it justifies the moniker “famous”.

After lunch, I head for Tenby.  My plan is to book into my hotel (The Giltar Grove Country House) and then go down and explore the town.  I’ve seen some photos of it online recently and it looks amazing.  But my legs and back are telling me that I’ve pushed it enough today.  I arrive and am greeted by a very nice lady who has upgraded me to an en suite double room.  I think it must be because she’s read my blog.  Sadly, it’s because she thought a single room was unfair on Hamish.

I settle down for an evening of coffee and biscuits.  I will explore Tenby in the morning.