Premier Inn Llanelli Central East
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Travel Blogs from Llanelli
... for some of the white stuff (settle down! - just milk and bread) and struggled home with windy, but balmy tales.
Having been tempted by scant details of a Dylan Thomas Laugharne walk led by John starting at 10:30, we skipped down the slope into town and waited in Brown's for John. Others had been hooked by this low-key advertising and were to be seen lurking in the Bar, not unlike a funeral wake on the death of a distant aunt. ...
... moon saw a most impressive firework display. No oohing-and-ahhing, just open-mouthed pleasure at the spectacular sound and light show. What happened to the Catherine Wheel and the odd squib?
An evening meal at Brown's under photos and Dylan Thomas memorabilia and then a hasty uphill trudge to the 'warm little cabin on the hill'. A better day than yesterday, but tomorrow bodes ill. ...
... Internet in the grandly named clubhouse came up with nothing, except for the usual spam and summer-orientated tourism.
So .......Haverfordwest, west true to its name, beckoned. Off we went, bristling with enthusiasm and a modicum of optimism. Sadly, the weather worsened as we went westwards and the multi-storey carpark offered short-spell relief from the tumbling wet stuff. Haverfordwest became a limitedly successful escape - torrential, ...
... of the stretches and taking much advantage of the sniffing and squatting opportunities. We ambled on stoically, not unlike a Lowry painting, head down, bracing against the cold and pretending this was good for us. Sadly (happily) we were greeted by a "Danger" sign, informing us of "unusual objects" on the beach and the welcome advice that further progress was not advised. 'Twas MOD land apparently and firing was a possibility. It ...
... in the sing-along. Roy, an Anglicised Welshman, declared them brilliant and proceeded to tell us various sheep jokes while engaging various middle-aged women in a cuddle and friendly banter. If this is Wales on a wet Sunday afternoon.......?
My lasagne was beckoning and we stalked off uphill under rain-heavy skies to our little shack on the hill. Almost poetic? Need another glass of red! Wine, not Red Bull