Last weekend we escaped for a few days to a seaside village in West Wales called Llangrannog. A colleague of Justin's owns a cosy holiday cottage there, which actually sleeps 8 (!) So as you can imagine we had a choice of bedrooms. Thankfully, we didn't have the one overlooking the graveyard next door (not that I'm superstitious or anything you understand - but being used to the conflagration at night-time of Coventry and Birmingham from home, this type of rural landscape brings a whole new meaning to the word "dark")!

This is the picture from the cottage window during a nice sunny day! (I'll leave your imagination to do the rest)!

We were there over Remembrance Sunday and 'did our duty' by attending the local service at a nearby village (there wasn't one at the church next-door). This took rather longer to sit through that we had anticipated (luckily it wasn't that cold) as every prayer and reading had to be spoken in English and then repeated in Welsh! But the church was packed and it was a worthwhile experience! We treated ourselved afterwards to lunch at the famous "Harbourmaster" at Aberaeron.

This was also a kind of duty as everyone who knows us well, knows that whenever we are out and about, we have to consult our trusty Michelin eating out in pubs guide, to find the nearest 'nice place'. Another place ticked-off the list....
The Harbourmaster reminded me a bit of John Burton Race's place in Dartmouth - the New Angel - but not so pretentious (not difficult in a place like Aberaeron, I guess).

Or maybe Dunkerley's in Deal, Kent.

Set on its own, over-looking the wide harbour estuary (above) it was very atmospheric at this quiet time of year. There's an interesting bridge across the river too. The dark blue exterior really makes it stand-out - but not in a bad way: there are lots of seaside blues and greys around. Not far away was a little fisherman's hut selling crabs and fresh fish. Next door was a strange crafty-type shop full of (over-priced) welsh woolly things and pottery (with a friendly resident cat). The restaurant itself was as you would expect - bare wooden tables and floor boards surrounded by modern boaty/seaside pictures on plain walls. The service was excellent and they were very busy. Couldn't fault the food (wonderful fishcakes)! It was very relaxed atmosphere and even the owner and his wife sat down to eat lunch in the bar area when the rush had died-down. Very, very nice. They have rooms here too (although a bit pricey) and Aberaeron town itself is quite nice and not too touristy with lots of pubs and gift shops (and a cheese-making place near-by).

Going back to Llangrannog, there are two pubs: the Pentre Arms (pronounced "Pentry") with a fantastic view of the harbour (when it's not obscured by sand-bags that is)!! and the Ship Inn. We thought the Ship had the best atmosphere and best food (good, cheap old-fashioned pub-grub)! The nearest best pub was another Ship Inn at Tresaith. A welcome sight at the end of an exhausting (5)? mile walk up and down the (dangerous) cliff path from Llangrannog.

This is the view of the pub from the sea. Inside there was a cosy fire and comfy leather sofas with newspapers. The only thing that spoilt it was the fact that they obviously make alot of money serving the local static caravan park (high-up on the cliff) with pizzas and chips ('get-your-numbered-wooden-spoon-when-you-place-your-order-at-the-bar'-kinda-place). But its quite a big place so you can escape to the other side of the pub.

On the way back we met an old woman (who quite honestly would have been quite scarey to meet in the dark - if you know what I mean - whiskers , pointy nose and all) who was emptying her fire's ashes into the stream outside her house (as she had probably done all her life). She told us she used to live in the Pentre Arms pub and how the sea comes right into the pub on stormy nights and no-one can get out (what a shame)!! She was complaining about all the sand that had blown up the street in the wind - and we had thought it was left over from the sea-water. Imagine living in that old victorian house and have nothing to do but empty your stove's ashpan into the stream and sweep away the sand......