I have moved!
Yes, in the middle of a pandemic, we moved to a place that we had each visited for a few hours on one occasion. At the moment, the only people with their normal furniture are the dogs. We brought the garden chairs on the grounds that being aluminium and plastic, they are very light so were easy to get in and out of the van Pp hired. Here he is still sporting his lockdown beard. He's gone back to Cornwall now, to prepare for the Moving of the Shop.
The weather has been stunning, and it hasn't felt difficult to stick to the Welsh rule that there is no driving to exercise. I walked here from my front door. That thing in the middle is a nineteenth century gun tower, called a Martello Tower.
The name is apparently inspired by a tower on Mortella point in Corsica, which the Royal Navy had great difficulty blasting to smithereens in the eighteenth century. They managed to take it eventually, but it held up under cannon fire. Impressed by this, the British put up other towers all around the world and called them 'Martello towers' because apparently getting the name right was too hard? I don't know. I don't even know what the Navy was doing in Corsica. My eighteenth century historical knowledge is woeful.
I wandered on and found another old building: the Paterchurch Tower, medieval this time, and tucked away behind the high granite walls of the nineteenth century Dockyard. I rather liked this spy-hole way of allowing people to see it though - I might not have looked so carefully if it had not been presented almost as secret! Most of Pembroke Dock is nineteenth century or later (as is the name). The Navy decided they needed another dockyard, and just like that, Pembroke Dock was born. But before that, there was Paterchurch, and here it still is.
Some of the nineteenth century buildings are in a shocking state. But on the whole, Pembroke Dock seemed more pleasant than I remembered, though I suppose blue skies always help!
This place has serious numbers of anchors. Our house has two, fished out of the Haven by the previous owner - but these by the Dockyard are bigger!
Not exactly the most florishing of ports, and I believe there is some question whether it will survive Brexit, since the Irish ferry lorries that used to come here and then drive across Britain are now getting ferry routes direct to Francey - but we shall see.
I love this street by the dockyard wall. There's something about the stone wall and the trees!
Arrived back, and this is a view from the house as I drink my coffee! It's wonderful. And ever-changing - the water comes up right under those trees on the left at high tide.
We're sort of on the side of a promontary, and this is the end of it. Just across the water, a vast power station and an oil refinery. Very massive industry compared to where we lived in Cornwall, but it's beautiful at night, with all the distant lights.
Rosie mooching along the path that goes along the coast. This is not the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, officially, because this peninsula is cut off by that, being considered too dull for walkers. I am looking forward to visiting the rest, if this is the dull bit! But it is a nice quiet bit where Theo can romp about, and at low tide there's some beach too.
This is our 'garden. It's basically just bare concrete. I have got some woollen mulch (sheep wool seems to be nearly valueless now, you can buy it to put on the garden, which is what that rug-like thing is. It's basically a wool rug for the garden. I'm hoping that with some compost, it will allow thrift and thyme and other cliff sort of plants to get established.
More industry, on the other side of the Haven. I forget what this is now. More oil stuff, probably.
The weather has been stunning, and it hasn't felt difficult to stick to the Welsh rule that there is no driving to exercise. I walked here from my front door. That thing in the middle is a nineteenth century gun tower, called a Martello Tower.
The name is apparently inspired by a tower on Mortella point in Corsica, which the Royal Navy had great difficulty blasting to smithereens in the eighteenth century. They managed to take it eventually, but it held up under cannon fire. Impressed by this, the British put up other towers all around the world and called them 'Martello towers' because apparently getting the name right was too hard? I don't know. I don't even know what the Navy was doing in Corsica. My eighteenth century historical knowledge is woeful.
I wandered on and found another old building: the Paterchurch Tower, medieval this time, and tucked away behind the high granite walls of the nineteenth century Dockyard. I rather liked this spy-hole way of allowing people to see it though - I might not have looked so carefully if it had not been presented almost as secret! Most of Pembroke Dock is nineteenth century or later (as is the name). The Navy decided they needed another dockyard, and just like that, Pembroke Dock was born. But before that, there was Paterchurch, and here it still is.
Some of the nineteenth century buildings are in a shocking state. But on the whole, Pembroke Dock seemed more pleasant than I remembered, though I suppose blue skies always help!
This place has serious numbers of anchors. Our house has two, fished out of the Haven by the previous owner - but these by the Dockyard are bigger!
Not exactly the most florishing of ports, and I believe there is some question whether it will survive Brexit, since the Irish ferry lorries that used to come here and then drive across Britain are now getting ferry routes direct to Francey - but we shall see.
I love this street by the dockyard wall. There's something about the stone wall and the trees!
Arrived back, and this is a view from the house as I drink my coffee! It's wonderful. And ever-changing - the water comes up right under those trees on the left at high tide.
We're sort of on the side of a promontary, and this is the end of it. Just across the water, a vast power station and an oil refinery. Very massive industry compared to where we lived in Cornwall, but it's beautiful at night, with all the distant lights.
Rosie mooching along the path that goes along the coast. This is not the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, officially, because this peninsula is cut off by that, being considered too dull for walkers. I am looking forward to visiting the rest, if this is the dull bit! But it is a nice quiet bit where Theo can romp about, and at low tide there's some beach too.
This is our 'garden. It's basically just bare concrete. I have got some woollen mulch (sheep wool seems to be nearly valueless now, you can buy it to put on the garden, which is what that rug-like thing is. It's basically a wool rug for the garden. I'm hoping that with some compost, it will allow thrift and thyme and other cliff sort of plants to get established.
More industry, on the other side of the Haven. I forget what this is now. More oil stuff, probably.
