I awoke at 7 a.m. and I could tell it was going to be another beautiful day. I immediately resolved to visit Marloes beach and have a swim. I overlooked a short cut which would have saved me a mile or so for the sake of a few hundred yards of off-road but it didn’t matter.
When I arrived I had the beach to myself. It was every bit as wonderful as I remembered it from our family holiday here when I was about 13 years old.
For a combination of the clarity and warmth of the water, the scenery and the beautiful sand, I think this is the best British beach I have ever visited. Absolutely wonderful, and to be granted the privilege of the entire mile-and-a-quarter of it to myself was an unexpected treat.
When I was dry and decent again I cycled back into Marloes village and bought half a dozen eggs, a pack of bacon and some rolls, returned to the camp site and cooked myself a wonderful breakfast. I washed up and started to pack, but I had to wait a surprisingly long time before the tent was dry, in spite of the warm sunshine. At around noon I set off for Haverfordwest (my train was due to leave at around 5 p.m.) and by about 2 p.m. I was in the town searching for somewhere to eat.
I found a restaurant with some decking overlooking the Cleddau river. I ordered plaice and chips and soon struck up a conversation with the only two other people in the place. There was something remarkably familiar about the lady’s accent and it turned out that she had been a pupil at Temple Sutton School, Southend. There is no escape.
The trip back to Southend, in which I had to change trains at Swansea and, of course, to cycle across London late at night, was fairly tedious and I arrived home fairly clost to midnight. `It had, however, been a marvellous trip.