IT’S HARD TO BE A SAINT IN THE CITY

I know, I know.

It’s been a week or two, but I’ve been away and despite buying a new phone ‘with Blogger built in’ (yes if you’re in America) I have been unable to blog.

South Wales.

Which is pretty good when you get the weather.

Which we did.

When we set off Snicket had already got a virus and was running a temp of 105 degrees. He has an affectation for Victorian diseases and this time had been diagnosed with Slapped Cheek Disease (honestly!). In our caring, sharing way we said ‘sod it, let’s take him on holiday anyway’.

Alley, at 12, simply had her usual Face Like A Slapped Arse disease, so we stuck her in between Snicket and Boo, lashed a windbreak to the roof and the bikes to the back and hit the road for a week’s camping near Manorbier (Myffanny).

So, once there, other than Boo’s helter-skelter incident in Fishguard (Lummpfyssh) which prompted an immediate visit to A&E in Haverfordwest (Heffellummp), and a follow up in Tenby (Dinby-fysh-Piecod) Cottage Hospital, things went surprisingly well for the Family Backroads.

I got a brown head and grew a beard.

Mrs B got brown sauce all over the Primus and grew annoyed.

We did some body-boarding at Newgale (Dyppsinch). Alley and Snicket floated on the surf like turds at Blackpool. I sank like a fat bloke in a wet suit lying on a piece of polystyrene.

Me and Alley road our bikes down to the beach but got Mrs B to come and pick us up because the hill was a bit steep. Aren’t bike racks brilliant?

There are some great pub lunches to be had and it’s better than Cornwall because it only takes a mere 7 hours to get there. Also, it’s more commercial than North Wales, so the locals don’t immediately lapse into Welsh every time you nip into their shop. Also, we are more than capable of setting fire to our own tent thanks.

I didn’t see Cerys Matthews when we were there, but I listened to her on the radio on the long journey home. She was talking to Stuart Maconie at the Cambridge Folk Festival. Even though she has bandy legs and an appetite for booze which would shame Charlotte Church, her voice still gives me a semi.

There’s lovely.