Saturday, 17 October 2015

Caravan end of term, yet again

I've been down to lovely Pembrokeshire, to my lovely caravan at lovely Wiseman's Bridge, my lovely childhood memory site, quite a few times this year.  Every time, whatever the reason or excuse for the visit, I think 'why do I keep coming back here?'  I have no idea.  Logic, common sense and economic calculation all say 'why bother?'  Yet, every time I drive down the hill, past the pub, along the seafront, up the other hill and round between the two white houses and up, again, to the Lower Field, and across the grass to the caravan, it still feels like a homecoming.

I've sometimes talked about the quiet stillness (although that neglects one of Pembrokeshire's major industries, which is strimming), the views of the sea and the headland, the chums who will gladly share a jar and a gossip, even the rabbits and the pheasants and the wagtails - but that's not it.  I was chatting to a friend to whom I'd lent the caravan for a week back in August, and he talked mostly about his five year old daughter - her delight in discovering rockpools, shrimps, seaweed, low tide corrugated sand - and I suppose that's it.  I keep going back to my childhood.

Here's a picture of the caravan.

And the view.


  1. That is a view to make you feel better about life.

  2. If it feels good, do it! Not very poetic, I'll agree, but true nonetheless. I do pretty much the same walk most days, around here, and it's hard to explain why it makes me feel so content. I just feel connected. I'm thinking that's what you feel about your spot in Pembrokeshire.

  3. The pic doesn't do it justice, Liz.

    Yes, Martin, connected gets it. I went twenty years without visiting Wiseman's Bridge, and when I eventually went back (in 1990), I was just as connected as ever.

  4. That's a lovely view - and a beautiful post.