Apparently Welsh shepherds had lived in small wheeled huts, so they could move house and follow the flock. Our host for the evening, who turned out to be local actor and director Peter Doran, had bought one and done it up. He was a friendly and welcoming host, and the hut was cosy, with a pull-out bed and new paint. There was a kitchen area inside an old barn, but we dreamt of a pub meal. Peter recommended the local, but they weren't so welcoming. They were booked up, and saw no need to be polite about it. We found a nicer reception at the local supermarket, made a healthier food choice, and the view from outside the barn was better. It was decorated with old theatre props and posters, including a giant tin of Brasso, frilly umbrellas and a string of pink flamingo lights.
We left the next morning in good time and drove up the coast. There were lots of villages along the way, but nowhere to park! The houses were built right up along the roadside and high stone walls lined the way. There were a couple of bigger towns we could have looked at, but it was school holiday season and they were heaving with tourists. We popped into the Centre for Alternative Technology as well, which had a twin-track water-powered tram, lifting visitors up a steep hill. It was pretty neat, filling a tank in one carriage at the top to lift the carriage at the bottom. We were cheap Kiwis on tour, and since it looked to be their main attraction, we watched it gush water for a cycle or two, then got into our air-conditioned petrol car, and drove off.
Next stop was a seemingly-promising craft centre at Corris. The tribes of tantrum-ridden kids fighting over fluffy pink stuffed dragons and plastic Harry Potter wands drove us away more effectively than any Expeliarmus Charm.