Mary Medlicott, Storyteller and Author - Storyworks

Storytelling Starters ~ A Morning Walk in Pembrokeshire

Yesterday morning, waking early in Wales, the light is so lovely that I’m prompted to get quickly out of bed, throw on some clothes, go down the stairs, unlock the front door and enter the world outside. It’s a beautiful morning, cold but bright. No-one else is about.

Now a short early morning walk begins as I go up the small hill beside Mathri village green, the green to my left and Mathri church on the right. When I get to the road at the top of the green, I turn right to walk along in the general direction of the sea. The road takes me past what used to be the village shop. It’s been closed and empty for a long time now. I used to see that lying sadly in the window was a poster for one of my storytelling shows, an evening of Shemi’s Tall Tales. This time, I noticed it was no longer there.

Next I pass the big house on the left with the row of tall trees in its garden swaying gently beside the road. On the other side of the road is the row of what were originally built as council houses. No-one is about here either. It’s all very quiet. .

Past the council houses, I come to open countryside, ploughed fields to my right, a tall hedge on the left. Next on the road, I pass the wooden bench which was installed not long ago for people out on a walk to be able to sit and admire the view, the sea in the distance to the right and the left. Proceeding, I soon arrive at what Paul and I know as The Pink House. I observe that the house is in the process of renovation, at least in regards to the front porch. Having now completed the outward part of what I think of as the short Mathri walk, I turn around and return to our Mathri house feeling filled with the beauty of the morning.

On the way back I pass the phone box which is no longer a working phone box but now the home of a defibrillator. Besides the defibrillator, the old phone box also now provides a home to books which have been left there by people who no longer want them to be available to people who’d like to try them out. I notice that the big fat copy of Roget’s Thesaurus which I spotted there yesterday is still there. As I wonder if I might come back and take it, I consider what books from our Mathri house I might leave in its place.

Inside our house, I go straight into the kitchen and switch on the kettle to make a cup of tea. Then I sit and ponder how lucky I am to be in such a lovely place on such a beautiful day. Lockdown has meant that we haven’t been able to come here since last August. I’ve felt seriously deprived. To me, North Pembrokeshire is home. It’s in my blood. Without it, I wane.

PS: The second photo shows our Mathri house at the end of the road with, on the left, the side of a very fine barn with the stripes of tree shadows along its side. The first photo is a finely furrowed field at the top of Mathri village on the road to Abercastell.

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