We had a bit of excitement this morning. The bottom literally fell out of Rich’s tea mug. Fortunately it was still on the counter rather than his lap. Still – neither of us have seen it happen before. Perhaps we lead a sheltered life.

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Having got over said excitement, we drove for 9 miles and parked in the large layby at Llanvetherine. We then walked up a very muddy Caggle Street – a sunken lane which lived up to its name as we ended up having to backtrack and trespass through the adjacent fields, rather than wade through knee deep mud.

Passing by Whitehouse and the Old Cyder Mill to Trump, we had wonderful views of a snow dusted Skirrid.

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At Llangattock Lingoed Rich decided that he wanted to buy this house on the spot, solely because that river bed there, is the drive. And yes he really would spend hours driving up and down it. Fortunately it’s not for sale.

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Back down to Old Court to pick up the Offa’s Dyke Trail to Little Pool Hall, from where we re-joined Caggle Street, Skyra and Dervla – the dastardly duo. Dervla has recently developed a habit of insisting that I turn right, when what she really means is that I should continue following the road round to the right, because it bends. She doesn’t seem to understand bends. Or the difference between railway lines and roads.

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