Many of you have been in touch with me with special requests for this series of Welsh posts, which is sadly drawing to a close.
The printable one reads;
“Less silly pubs, more pictures of Duncan’s jumper”
It was 8.30pm as we skated past St Brides Bay and the Havens en-route for St Ishmaels (not to be confused with St Ishmael).
The roads were deserted (just as well), the views stunning, and since it was my car I didn’t have to play Duncan’s weird gaelic folk CDs.
A month ago the Brook in St Ishmaels hadn’t warranted a mention on my travels, but tonight we arrived to a beautiful sunset, live music in the tent, and half the village drinking
Prosecco ale from the barrel.
“No rush“, I shouted “It’s open till 11″.
Parked up, I joined him to see if the Inn looked any less gastro in the evening.
“Can I HELP you, Sir” said the barman. “We’re just closing“.
Yes, once the folk had finished their pan fried Sewin they were closing, whatever their published opening hours said. Duncan sank his half and we hit the road.
I’d hoped to visit the GBG pub at Cardigan, home to our “Hotel” at the Angel, but that would have to wait.
Suddenly, at 23:32, it struck us.
We were starving. Your options at 23:32 on Monday night in Cardigan are limited.
Seyrans didn’t seem that delighted to see us either.
And the doner kebab was a bit “tired” (NKSS 2). But needs must.