On waking to bright sunshine we couldn’t resist taking our first morning cuppa outside, and watching the sheep being herded on the opposite side of the Trannon Valley. Who needs breakfast telly with views like this? In fact who needs breakfast telly full stop. Turn it off and read a book or sit in your garden for a few minutes instead. Although if they bought back Fiona Phillips on GMTV, I might consider watching that. Nothing to do with the fact that she’s from the same part of the world as me, and is a little bit ditzy.


After sneaking back inside to try and catch the tortoises out (Rich is convinced that they only move when he’s not watching them), we cooked up our perfect breakfast – Black Farmer sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs, and planned our outing for the day.

Heading out towards Machynlleth, or Mac-lilly-leaf as Rich calls it because I’m a bit pants at lip speaking sometimes, we left Skyra and Dervla on a forest track just south of Forge and climbed up to Bryn Coch Bach. After walking along our beloved Glyndwr’s Way for a wee while and stopping for lunch just below Mynydd Bach, we descended the minor road just past Rhiw Goch and walked back along it to the start.

As seems to be the norm in this part of Wales, and despite it being Good Friday, we only saw two other walkers all day, and even they were locals out for a stroll. We like having the paths, sheep, birds of prey and wild flowers to ourselves though. It makes us feel hardcore.

The traffic had picked up by the time we left, and we ended up with an aggressive driver right on our tail. Neither of us are slow drivers, but we refuse to be forced to speed on country roads where you risk hurting humans or animals, so eventually this particular eejit overtook and raced off. Why take such risks? I will never understand this need for speed. Never. Fair enough on a race track, but on a public road – well there are too things that could go wrong. Can you tell that I’m a sensitive soul yet?

Back at the cottage we finally got to meet the lovely Tim – owner of this rural Welsh idyll, and he gave me permission to look around Vicky’s pottery whilst she was away. It’s my sort of workshop – well lit, with a wood burning stove, and plenty of room. I’d love this sort of space to create mosaics and tiles in. One day.

Arkle, the miniature Shetland pony, still seemed a little bit miserable about being on a diet but I managed to get a few cuddles out of him, and then out of Peaches the cat and Max the black labrador. This is certainly the perfect place to stay if you like furry creatures. Peaches in particular takes her sentry duty on the picnic table very seriously if there’s meat in the oven, in this case our lamb dinner – New Zealand rather than Welsh I’m afraid. I must remind Rich that he’s promised me a rescue cat when we’ve moved. A daft one, that likes cuddles. Rich wants one that will learn to stay out of the bedroom. As if. Cats love sleepy snuggles.

Arkle the miniature Shetland pony
Arkle the miniature Shetland pony