(Continued from page 10)

conversation but beggared if I can follow it.

The M25 is solid as usual and we divert via Oxford and Swindon to join M4 a little further up. James is convinced we could have taken a shorter route, but would it have been quicker?

Looking for somewhere to stop for a drink and some food, James picks out the Cross-Hands at Willicombe Down from the Real Ale Guide. Leaving junction 17 of the M4 we cross the motorway a further 3 times before eventually falling upon the village.  Here we enjoy a nice pint. An entertainer with a voice to make karaoke sound sweeter than honey unfortunately mars this.

with occasional squalls blowing in from the sea. Breakfast beckons and after a short time we find ourselves in a café wiping the sleep from our eyes.

Alfie, Joanne & Nick turn up not long after. They would have been earlier but for PC202. Alfie demonstrating how not to get to Pembroke in the shortest time. They'd also stood outside our tents for about 20 minutes trying to wake us up, sad really.

At this point the rain decided to make its debut. After procrastinating for an hour or so the rain refused to go away and so we went surfing. All togged up having hired "the kit" we proceeded to demonstrate the art of "useless". In over 3 hours of trying I think we managed about 30 seconds of standing up between 6 of us. But having said that it was bloody good addictive fun.

Come 3pm and the sun shone and proceeded to shine for the rest of the day. The rock dried quickly and soon we were to be found on a section of rock not more than 10 minutes walk from the campsite. Here we climbed till about 7.30pm before hunger took over and once more we headed back to St David's. Here Norman had already made his way with his wife, and soon joined us after finishing their food.

The evening passed pleasantly with almost everybody smoking a communal cigar and drinking whisky by the end of it. Returning to the campsite James & I tried to liberate a sign to "Haverfordwest" from a building site but failed miserably. More drinks followed at the site before retiring for the night.

Sunday met with the usual enthusiasm as a number of "stunned slugs" attempted some easy routes about 30 minutes up the Coast. Having sweated beer on the routes with all sense of balance lost we called it a day and after a few more minutes soloing decided to head for home and the wonderful world of work.

Nick Erith

Charles demonstrates his culinary skills by ordering some microwave pies from the barmaid. We don't stay for a second pint and taking over the driving I get us to the campsite in just under two hours.

With the tents up we drift off into our personal dreamlands. Charles kicking me in the head as he dreams of being the "Karate Kid" of Hertford occasionally interrupts mine.

Come morning and the heat wave has all but dissipated

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