By: MARGARET BROWN
HUNDREDS OF miles as the Crow flies from the sunny Algarve and holidaying under a veil of rain. West Wales is at its most beautiful away from the industrial parts, richly green with dense wooded slopes and a patchwork of growing crops.
Sometimes the yellow of oil seed rape, more often pale gold where fields have been mown for silage during an early spell of hot weather. And now steady rain, just what is needed to bring on a second cut and bulk out the fields of grass for hay.
Despite draconian measures dished out from Westminster, there remain a few farmers fighting against an encroaching tide of camp sites, fun parks and selling off land to developers. Agricultural practice over many generations has left a legacy of skills deeply imbedded and hard to eradicate.
Although dairy farming is slowly being priced out of existence by supermarkets, which expect something for almost nothing in return for a steady supply of clean fresh milk, sheep farmers appear to be doing slightly better.
Those who enjoy rambling as a relief from urban living or take picnics to some beauty spot at the week’s end, continue to expect a countryside of fields and hedges, working farms with animals dotted about and an unchanging rural idyll. Make the best of it because while most of our food is being imported and new towns are to be built on good land if Mr Prescott’s plan comes to fruition, the landscapes of Britain will be changed forever.
Recognition
Yesterday the sun shone over Pembrokeshire, a noteworthy occasion that made it possible to sit outside and admire the boats on The Haven. A large stretch of water from the seaward end of the Estuary to the Marina at Neyland, where anything from a sailing dinghy to the towering bulk of the Pembroke Dock to Rosslare Ferry passes within a few yards of where we are enjoying a glass of beer.
Not so long ago a big oil spill devastated the whole area: seabirds and other marine creatures were barrowed away in their hundreds according to a local fisherman – “And now you wouldn’t know it ever happened’.
But the big refinery continues to provide employment and two new terminals to receive Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) from abroad are under construction at the seaward end of the sheltered waters. There has been considerable opposition to the building of what will be the first of its kind in Britain, soon to be followed by others around the coast.
As prime terrorists targets, it is claimed that the contents of one full tanker or one storage tank, if blown up, would engulf and burn everything within a two mile radius of the attack. The released LNG would float and expand, to obliterate Pembroke Dock, Milford Haven, Neyland and other villages in the area.
Apart from great human suffering, this ancient and historical area could be lost almost before its achievements have received the wider recognition they deserve, and so the Boss and I visited an exhibition in a Martello Tower down by the Docks.
One of two that were built in 1851 as part of a ring of defences ordered by Lord Palmerston to protect the coast against a French invasion. At that time, the shipyard was sole builder of Royal Yachts, five of which were commissioned by Queen Victoria during her long reign.
Pembroke Dock
As last of a distinguished line, only our present Queen’s Britannia was made elsewhere. From Viking incursions into West Wales back in the dark ages, through several invasions of Ireland by the Welsh from the 12th century upward, Pembroke Dock area has been associated with war and the building of naval craft.
In all, 263 vessels were built there, dating 1816, including battleships, gun boats and cruisers as well as five submarines during the 1914-1919 World War. The Royal Dockyard was closed in 1926 but again became a vital part of defence during the second World War.
As well as a Squadron of the Fleet Air Arm, RAF Coastal Command was also based in the Haven. Apart from its work of sinking enemy Submarines out in the Atlantic, it took part in the evacuation of the troops at Dunkirk. However, in 1940, this outpost of the Principality was totally undefended and German bombers raided the town, scoring a direct hit on oil storage tanks
After our visit to the Martello Tower, where in earlier days
 A beautiful Cutty Sark replica Photo: SUPPLIED |  |
the deep cellar had been crammed full with high explosives, we retired to the nearby Shipwright for a light lunch. Inside we found an accurate and beautifully rigged replica of the Cutty Sark made by a local craftsman. But sight seeing is a wearisome occupation and the teapot was calling us home, plus the prospect of No.2 daughter’s arrival from Bolton. Having obtained a route from the AA, she was riding down on her motorbike to be in Neyland, so we thought, by about 9pm.
Ten-tenths cloud and drizzle are anything but ideal and, as time wore on, anxiety increased. By 11pm and a texted message “Are you OK?” that brought no reply we were really worried.
Then we heard the deep note of that mean machine and she was there like something from outer space – black waterproof, sinister black helmet and a cold wet nose with a drip on its tip. Once a parent always a parent, and it doesn’t become any easier.
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