I have a very good night’s sleep. So, also does Hamish. The en-suite shower is a bit intimidating as it looks just like a coffin. However, it’s roomy inside so it’s something to think about when I’m planning my funeral. (Cue chorus of Happy, Happy Joy, Joy.) The shower is controlled by a knob that looks like an old fashioned tap, but has markers for Off, Cold, Warm and Hot on it. As the pointer attached to it currently sits between Off and Cold, I’m not completely confident that it’s going to work as expected. I fear this will be another example of freezing, COLD, cold, tepid, warm, hot, hot, HOT, HOT!!!, tepid, cold. I am agreeably surprised and once up to temperature, it’s constant. The shower head is at about 7ft, so all in all it’s a very good shower. 9.75 out of 10.

There is no breakfast provided here, so I will have to forage. As I’m planning to start at Tenby, I can get something there. My plan from there is to visit Pembroke, Angle, Picton Castle, St David’s and finally Fishguard. This is liable to change as the weather forecast is pretty awful and the clouds are definitely lurking. Because of that, I decide to move Hamish to the suitcase. I think you can imagine how well that went down.

Unfortunately, the weather is not lurking – it is Stealth Rain. From inside, it looks as though it rained earlier and may rain again later. Once outside, I realise that this is sneaky, silenced Stealth Rain and it is actually pissing down. My decision to put Hamish in the suitcase is vindicated, though he still says he’s going to pee on my underwear.

I head back to Tenby and now that I have spotted the rain, it stops being Stealth Rain and turns into a torrential downpour. I refuse to get wet, so head for Pembroke in the hope that the weather will calm down a little.

The car and I seem to be getting on better now and the trip is uneventful (apart from the usual tailgating). In Pembroke, I find myself in the middle of rush hour as 5 of us wait to get past some roadworks. By the time I negotiate this fearsome obstacle to progress (about 45 seconds), the rain stops and the sun is fighting to come out. I then spend a jolly five minutes with a car park ticket machine that repeatedly refuses to accept my card. In the end, I give up, load the app and pay that way.

I then head up to the road to Pembroke Castle. I’m not going in as I’ve been here before – several of us stayed for a long weekend in Pembroke when the countryside was closed due to a Foot & Mouth outbreak. The castle is as spectacular as I remember, but my current task is to get breakfast. I spot somewhere that may or may not be open. I open the door and inside behind the counter are a small gaggle of staff who are completely absorbed with some fascinating task. I politely attract their attention and they confirm that they are actually open. I grab a table and order my first Full Welsh Breakfast,

Which is grand – although the black pudding is a little overdone. It sets me up nicely for a hobble back to the car. It’s a hobble because my back and knees are organising a committee to complain about the unusual activity.

Next stop: Angle. This is a village described as being a single road and is very close to the southwest tip of Wales. The route to Angle is mostly made up of B roads with passing places, which are agreeably entertaining. Angle is indeed a single road. Oddly, it is a fairly straight road, so I wonder where the angle is. One garden is clearly possessed by a nutter as is packed with garden furniture, including a plastic giraffe and gorilla. I later learn that this is actually referred to as Angle Zoo.

I head through and down to West Angle Bay. It’s windswept and quite exposed here and I’m glad it’s stopped raining. It would be fun to walk around the coast a bit, but my back isn’t up to it. So after a couple of pictures and a comfort break, I head for Picton Castle.

The castle is halfway between Tenby and Fishguard which requires quite a bit of backtracking. By the time I pull up in the car park, it’s raining heavily and I just can’t be bothered. The castle isn’t visible from the car park and so I’m not sure how far it is and how wet I’m going to get. It seems silly, but I’m knackered – which is telling testimony for how unfit I am. Anyway, off to St David’s.

St. David’s sits on the north side of St Bride’s Bay. It’s only a mile from the sea, though you wouldn’t know it once you get there. But on the way, the road follows the coast and gets very clingy around the impressive beach and cliffs at Newgate. I look for somewhere convenient to stop but by the time I start to look I’m heading up Newgate Hill and I get stuck in a queue of traffic behind a council truck that is collecting cones at a glacial pace. Of course, Newgate Hill is very steep, so the car and I have another disagreement.

Temporarily resolving our differences, I proceed and arrive at St David’s. This is tiny, but has a cathedral and a Bishop’s Palace. Luckily, the weather has cleared and is now sunny and bright. I head into the gift shop on the way in and purchase a bookmark. I resist the temptation to by a pair of Holy Socks (Faith on your Feet) as a gag gift. I have a nice wander around a very pleasant cathedral and then it’s off to the refectory for Welsh Cakes and Diet Coke. There are various versions of Welsh Cakes available, so I go for one traditional and one lemon. I have to admit I’m not hugely impressed. The traditional one is tasteless and both are dry, leaving me with a mouthful of crumbs. The refectory has a great idea for winding people up – a little bowl of Trivial Pursuit cards on each table. What a great way to make sure that every visitor has the opportunity to get involved in an argument!

From here, I head to Fishguard. The satnav takes me the middle of a residential area, where people seem to enjoy parking randomly in the middle of the road. I fiddle with it a bit and find a car park called Fishguard Fort. I head through the town, over a very narrow bridge and up a hill to the Fort car park. I get there just before another couple. I wander across to the information sign, where one of them is stood having lit a cigarette within seconds of leaving their car. As the sign is now surrounded by a cloud of smoke, I decide to ignore it and head off down the path to the Fort. Before I can go, she lets out a hacking cough and deposits half a lung on the footpath. I choke down the urge to suggest she stops smoking and instead hand her lung fragment back to her. The two of them never get down to the Fort, so maybe the person with her took her to A&E.

Fishguard Fort is a nice little fort with some excellent views. The sea is uncluttered except for one massive ferry/cruise ship/ Bond villain base that looms large. It doesn’t seem to move while I’m there, which supports the Bond villain base theory. It’s a nice climb back to the car.

The final journey is fairly short, but I’ve been warned that satnavs usually take people to the wrong place. This, naturally, happens but they have provided me with the what3words needed to pinpoint the correct entrance. I then drive down a long farm track and into the yard of a working farm. I can’t see anything that resembles my Airbnb (called The Farm Cwtch), so I park up and go and chat to a farmhand who speaks in an extremely challenging dialect – because he is Polish rather than Welsh. It turns out that this is the right place and I find what is a charming little Airbnb.

It is essentially a chalet with one main room and a small en-suite bathroom. It’s clean, neat and well maintained and comes with a TV and Netflix account, mini-fridge, microwave and Air Fryer. I settle in for the evening.