Sunday: Yorkshire pud and Welsh bull

From the comfy armchair, Elim Road, Carmarthen, Wales

The day dawned (OK, so maybe I don’t know how it dawned exactly, but when I got up) with a soft misty rain. It was a beautiful morning to go exploring through a tunnel of branches over the road which is so beautiful I want to keep taking photos of it, and wander along country lanes between sloping fields of dairy and longhorned cattle, and black and white sheep. Everything is so green and fresh; ferns and ivy grow on elderly stone walls, holly and fuschias pop up here and there, and the hills with black/green hedges stroking their contours and lone white houses roosting here and there take the breath away.
The narrow roads curve and are edged with compact hawthorn hedgerows from which come the delightfully musical song of invisible sparrows. I can’t decide which is the safer side to walk on so tend to weave back and forth as my theories change.


On Sunday, pubs and restaurants put on a mid day dinner. We heaped our enormous, heavy white china plates with roast beef and/or pork, yorkshire pudding, parsnips, potatoes roasted or boiled, peas, carrots, cauliflower, lakes of gravy and a good splodge of horseradish. The atmosphere was relaxed and by the time we left, the pub was filling with groups including toddlers and babies. Lovely for families and friends to enjoy a meal out together.

The houses, shoulder to shoulder, sport a multitude of colours. A nearby beach is delightful to stroll along, low tide exposing acres of seabed and tiny shells while castle ruins glance down from the summit of red and grey cliffs. A row of little cottages with chimney pots gaze out across the beach while above them a pink house clings to the hillside. Dogs are allowed on the beach from September until May and are taking advantage of the day which is now sunny with a striking blue sky. Shirley romps and enchants other Sunday walkers.


The young rust coloured bull in the field behind the house has come up to lie just outside the kitchen door where he can chew his cud and confuse basset hounds.

So far I’ve been getting up earlier that Shirley, so she hasn’t yet joined me in bed. This is not entirely a coincidence. She reduced my pillow by another few mouthfulls of stuffing today, having sneaked up on it from a new direction.