I drafted a lot of this with some rarely seen technology known as quill and parchment. The former a give-away from Le Manoir aux Quatr' Saisons (how did that get there??), the latter an excellent recycled pad called 'Save The Rhino'.
The information boards on the M4 said 'TAKE EXTRA CARE WHEN TOWING'. In the way my mind works, I read that to mean 'Take less care when not towing'. I know, I can be irritating.
New neighbours at White Park, replacing G and S who decided to give up the caravan having realised, after forty-odd years there, that they own a flat three quarters of a mile away in Saundersfoot . I wander across to say hello at about three o'clock and realise I've already met the new folks, and their greyhound whose name I've forgotten. I leave at 4.15 three glasses of rose heavier, having been introduced to about twelve extended family members aged from two to not telling. This caravan site is ruled by four dynasties, with Joseph as the Padrone.
NB Anyone know how to do accents? Grave, acute etc., not Welsh.
Five little children are playing an unfathomable game involving frisbees (which nobody knows how to throw), shrimping nets, and everyone suddenly sitting down at the same moment, facing east. Enthralled for an hour. They reminded me of rabbits. A sociologist would get a thesis out of it.
Then, a four-year-old, his father, and a border collie played football. Hey, that border collie was the best header of the ball since [insert your ballheader of choice, since I don't know any]. I suggested to the father that the dog should be playing for Wales. He said "Nah, not ready yet. No tactical sense."
At eight o'clock, a bird starts singing for the sunset, up in the overhanging sycamore. It sounds like a blackbird, but isn't. Blackbirds have thirty-two different song patterns, all of which I know by heart, and this isn't any of them. I asked another neighbour if it was a nightingale. "No, nightingales are unmistakeable," she replied. Not if you've never heard one, I thought.
9.00 pm. The colours in the sky as the sun sets behind the woods on the hill up to the West. Pale azure darkening through to deep cobalt and navy. And the wine-dark sea below. Soon there'll be stars, and then the Milky Way's great wheel will start spinning.
Much like my head by that stage.