So I get there later than planned, sort myself out, have some food and a drink (didn’t open the Pelorus, that’s still there for some other celebration), and decide, perversely, to switch on the TV which I know is beyond doubt kaput, and of course the damn thing lights up, perfectly, twinkling innocently at me as if to say ‘sorry, did you ask me something?’
Well, I wasn’t having that, so I unplugged it, carted it down to the shore, and cast it off the rock promontory into the depths of Carmarthen Bay, where it swam out towards Swansea and torpedoed a tanker at anchor off the Mumbles waiting for a parking space at Milford Haven…
No, that didn’t happen. I switched it off again. Cheeky blighter. Instead I stuck the iPod in its dock, hit shuffle and found ‘Clean Up Woman’ by Betty Wright and ‘My Way’ (no, not that one!) by Eddie Cochran, and wondered why music sounds so much better down there than up here, though the sound system cost a tenth as much. (I know the answer.)
Steve the Teeve turned up spot on time, which wasn’t hard as we’d agreed on ‘sometime Wednesday afternoon’. Pembrokeshire operates on its own timeframe, which makes the folk nicer, I think. It can work against you, of course, if you’re on a tight schedule; but I very rarely am, down there: that’s the whole point!
So I now have a shiny new freesat dish, which means that the nasty metal pole that used to vertically bisect the front window is gone (tucked away under the van in case anyone else might want it, I’ll ask Joseph next time) and I have an unimpeded view of Monkstone Point. (Except for those bloody sycamore trees.)
I got away quite early this morning, reached Carmarthen and realised I’d forgotten to turn off the gas and water. I toyed with phoning Joseph and asking him to do it, but I don’t like stacking up favours, so I turned round and went back. I’m glad I did. It gave me a bonus glimpse of that view. And I had the cup of coffee I’d foregone first time round.