|St David's Cathedral in the rain.|
‘Isn’t it just the road surface?’ I reply because I really don’t want to acknowledge any noise that might be indicative of car trouble, especially not when we’re high in the Preseli Hills where low clouds cast a damp grey shroud across the winding road. After a brief consultation we decide the noise probably isn’t serious and decide to press on. We’re having a day out at St David’s because what is the point of living in such a beautiful part of the world if you don’t get out to see it?
The drizzle turns to rain but doesn’t dampen our spirits. We have a very good, if slightly pricey lunch, at The Refectory in the cathedral where there’s also a small display of local art and crafts. I buy a very pleasing Christmas present from the arty lady at the desk who is no longer young but is lovely to look at with her chic black polo-neck, oversize black glasses and poppy red hair and lipstick. We talk about Coast magazine and the Donna Tartt book she’s reading and I walk away smiling. This lady reminds me of another I recently spotted in the supermarket who’d firmly resisted the pressure to wear beige and turn invisible and trotted past in her high-heeled ankle boots wearing a purple mini-dress which showed off her terrific legs, a short fitted purple coat and purple tights. With her elfin-cut silver hair and a confident smile she looked absolutely amazing.
Alas, one grand dame not doing so well is our car, The Biscuit Tin. For what’s basically a motor bike wrapped in a thin metal shell, it’s served us well but despite lavishing large sums of money on it recently, it still doesn’t seem happy. After ignoring The Noise nearly all the way home we decide to cut our losses. We stop at the used car garage we bought it from and there, in the pouring rain, we choose another. ‘That,’ says the garage owner, ‘is a different beast altogether.’ I just hope it’s a nice, quiet, cheap-to-run beast…
|Towards the town.|
|A little bookshop!|
|And a pretty display.|
|You never know who's looking!|