Friday 15 July 2016

Sue's Pantry

 

We walked almost everyday from Heritage Park to Saundersfoot, a fair few miles.

 

Sue's Pantry is a picturesque shop whose window is laden with cakes of every colour.

 

It was with great expectation that we brought 3 cakes, 2 iced muffins and a super sized carrot cake slice. Carefully these cakes were transported back to our cabin, in cased in a paper bag atop Samuel's beach bucket, (later we found out for 20pence you could buy a plastic box to protect the muffins).

 

The cabin was hot so while the kettle was boiling the cakes were placed in the fridge. This story doesn't have a happy ending by the way.

 

When it was time to eat the cakes we found the order had been muddled and there was only 1 cup cake...Debs' cake had been forgotten. This explained the reasonable prices.

 

We checked our order on all subsequent visits to Sue's Pantry, as it's no good walking off a cake if you can't eat it, later!

 

Wednesday 13 July 2016

When a spider lands on your face...

I like to think of the noise I make as a manly sound, a strange high pitched screech, when spiders attack. And by attack I mean swing round in front of me. (I'm sure at the right pitch spiders hate this sound).
In the Welsh cabin in the middle of the night it was a different story. With a swift but firm dusting off action if sent the spider that had been dancing on my face and arm, flying to the bottom of the bed. Or so I thought.
'I just killed a spider', I said to Debs.
'Yeah, right', she responded and proceeded to take advantage of me waking her by going to the toilet. Taking her lead I went to the toilet in the second loo in our rented cabin. (Very posh, two loos in a cabin).
On returning to bed Debs remarked, 'What's that mess on the sheets?'
Far from anything inappropriate it turned out to be the unfortunate remains of a squashed spider body and inexplicably two spider legs.
Did this experience help my phobia...Apparantly not. A spider recently leapt out at me from the rabbit hutch whilst I was cleaning it - to a round of manly screams.