Heading towards the finish line of Wales GBG ticks in August, but with a hurdle in front of us.

Would I survive the gentrification and pashmina overload of Solva, the broadsheet readers’ favourite.

Well, the creek was a bit Swallows & Amazons, but the Cambrian was just a well-run bistro dining pub with good local beer and a constant ringing of the phone to make evening bookings. A flowery lady queued, QUEUED !, to make a reservation for “Jenkinson +3”,

and in the garden a mum showed her 10 year old reviews from the Telegraph to establish the credential of their lunch choice.

“Look at this one, Harry !”.

There are no Telegraph reviews for the Artramont Arms to the north at Croes-goch, heading eagerly away from the tea rooms of St Davids.

Quality pints” ? Well, I’ll be the judge of that (Spoiler : they were).

Croes-goch, which will be in the GBG as Croesgoch next year, you wait, is noted on Wiki only for its beauticians, though there’s also a farm machinery shop that I assumed was a cafe, with alarming results.

The Artramont had attempted to defeat me by avoiding social media presence and publication of opening times, which is what you’d expect from a pub whose main exhibit is a poster of Real Betis from 1996.

Surprise, surprise, it was a minor classic. The young barman told me the “Skaddly Pluck” was their crowd pleaser, and despite the most DIY pump clip of 2022 it certainly pleased me ! You can have that one for free, Sunday Telegraph !

A local Dad and Daughter came in, and pleasingly made the Guvnor read out the entire list of crisps before settling on the Prawn Cocktail Quavers and heading off to the games room. I felt jealous of those Quavers, though the Longhorn Beef Pipers were more than adequate.

Then the Old Boys started to arrive at 14:15, and we got into a right discussion about Proper Pubs and posh pubs on ethe coast and the prospects of a micropub on Ramsey Island.

Really, who needs more from a pub than beer and crisps and a pool table where you can thrash* your daughter.

*Not literally.


  1. According to Caffle Brewery’s website, Skaddly Pluck is a Pembrokeshire term for “a chicken scramble to eat corn thrown on the ground”. Well, indeed – what else could it have been. A proper pump clip with an illustration of a skaddly pluck would be an improvement on the page ripped out of a notebook, in my humble opinion.

    And I’m disappointed that there’s no pub sign visible in your photos: Croes Goch means Red Cross, if my very limited Welsh is correct. Perhaps they should rip another page out of that notebook and colour it in.


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