Haverfordwesthas the remains of an Augustinian Priory, situated on the edge of the town,close to the banks of the Western Cleddau.

In 1982 excavationsat thePriory revealed a fifteenth century tiled floor.One of the finest examples of a medieval tiled floor in Wales, it suggests that this was a wealthy Priory.

Founded by Robert de Hwlffordd, First Lord of Haverfordwest, mention of the priory is made in a Royal Charter, dated 1331. This confirms the grants made by 'charter to God, St Mary and St Thomas the Martyr of Haverford and the canons serving God there'.

All the feast days were kept by the Black Canonsand Lent was strictly observed. This happy state of affairs was interruptedone day in 1284, when the Archbishop of Canterbury, on his way to St David's, stopped to inspect the Priory.

Archbishop Pecham was greatly disturbed by what he saw in Haverfordwest. The monks appeared to beliving too well. The ' Rule of St Augustine' permitted meat to be eaten on three days a week only, but this wasignored in Haverfordwest.Further more, food remaining after the monks had eaten was meant to be distributed to the poor, not to the monks' relatives or stray dogs.

The Prior was judged to be too fond of leaving the community to entertain guests. In future, this was to occur only if the guest was high ranking. On no account was swearing to be allowed and no lay person was to be given entry without the Prior's permission.

Significantly, perhaps, only high-born ladies were to be allowed to stay the night.

Seventeen graves have been discovered at the site. In the Chapter House, there lies an undated grave; close to it is the effigy of a knight, complete with thirteenth century armour. Thismight be the grave of Robert de Hwlffordd. It is certainly the last resting place of a person of some rank.

The old Llanelli (Llanelly) market had a cafe which served faggots andpeas throughout the 1950's.

We'd catchthe 'Eynons' 'bus, based atTrimsaran,and head straight for the faggots and peas before shopping.

The cafe had oil-cloth covered tables which you sat at whilst eating. It was one of the first 'fast food' places in Llanelli, apart from the fish and chip shops.

I'm not sure whether the faggots were made on the premises or 'bought in'.

Will Davy Rees was a butter and eggs merchant in the area who also sold bacon and faggots. He came down to Fishguard on Thursdays, but the Wednesday market in Carmarthen was far bigger.

'Sammy Morgan', the fish and chip shop in Water Street, Carmarthen,sold faggots and peas, too.

Faggots are mounds of minced meat, wrapped in a caul, which is part of the lining of a pig's stomach.

Often, nowadays, the caul is dispensed with.The meat is shaped into balls andput into a pan to bake in the oven for an hour. Hot water, poured around the faggots, keeps them moist while they cook and produces a gravy.

Belly pork and pigs' liver with, perhaps, bacon is used to make the faggots. Sometimes a small piece of a leaner cut of pork is used as well.I don't like too much liver in faggots, becauseof the ehavy texture the liver gives. Breadcrumbs are used to bulk the meat out and lighten the mixture andminced onions, sage, pepper and salt add flavour.

The peas which accompany the faggots must be dried, definitely not tinned.

Years ago, I readabout the cheeses madein Nantycaws, Carmarthen. I've lost the articlebut, if I'm correct, the large rounds of cheese were wrapped inhazel-nut leaves, then in muslin cloths before being buried in the ground for a few months.

The story of cheesegoes backat least five thousand years. It was said to have been discovered by a horsemanin the Middle East.

His leather bag, containing milk, became over heated anda physical reaction occurred, resulting in a primitive form ofcheese. The milk curdled into solids known as curds,separatingfrom the liquid 'whey' mixture. This is what 'Little Miss Muffet' was enjoying when the big spider frightened her away.

The Romans became adept at cheese making and spread their skilland their empire,across Europe.

Early Welsh cheeses were made from the milk of goats and sheep andsoaked in brine.

Great value was placed on cheeses. Under the laws of Hywel Dda, in a divorce settlement the wife was awarded the cheeses washed in brine and the husband the cheeses that had been hanging. (I don't know which were the tastiest).

By the sixteen hundreds, cows milk was used instead of sheep and goats milk, producing a blander cheese.

DuringWorld War1 and 2, the government stepped in to control cheese making, which was a labour intensive process. For thisreason,no one was allowed more than 2 ounces a week of cheese.

Caerphilly is probably the best known of Welsh cheeses, but there are many other Welsh cheeses being produced now.

PS: Mice prefer chocolate.

Years ago, I readabout the cheeses madein Nantycaws, Carmarthen. I've lost the articlebut, if I'm correct, the large rounds of cheese were wrapped inhazel-nut leaves, then in muslin cloths before being buried in the ground for a few months.

The story of cheesegoes backat least five thousand years. It was said to have been discovered by a horsemanin the Middle East.

His leather bag, containing milk, became over heated anda physical reaction occurred, resulting in a primitive form ofcheese. The milk curdled into solids known as curds,separatingfrom the liquid 'whey' mixture. This is what 'Little Miss Muffet' was enjoying when the big spider frightened her away.

The Romans became adept at cheese making and spread their skilland their empire,across Europe.

Early Welsh cheeses were made from the milk of goats and sheep andsoaked in brine.

Great value was placed on cheeses. Under the laws of Hywel Dda, in a divorce settlement the wife was awarded the cheeses washed in brine and the husband the cheeses that had been hanging. (I don't know which were the tastiest).

By the sixteen hundreds, cows milk was used instead of sheep and goats milk, producing a blander cheese.

DuringWorld War1 and 2, the government stepped in to control cheese making, which was a labour intensive process. For thisreason,no one was allowed more than 2 ounces a week of cheese.

Caerphilly is probably the best known of Welsh cheeses, but there are many other Welsh cheeses being produced now.

PS: Mice prefer chocolate.

Maudie, my nine year old granddaughter, Harry and Oliver's sister, told methat she likes 'Toad-in-the-Hole' when they have it in school.

I startedthinking about the nameswe give to dishes, such as 'Hot Dogs' and 'Welsh Rabbit/ Rarebit'.

The term 'Welsh Rabbit' was first used in 1725, in reference to a toasted cheese mixture, (caws wedi pobi.)

Fowler said, in his 1926 'Dictionary of English Usage', thatthe correct termis 'Welsh Rabbit', not 'Rarebit', in the same way that 'Toad in the Hole' refers to sausages, not leaping amphibians.

Welsh Rabbit is afavourite dish of mine.The only thing I dislike about it is washing the grater afterwards.

It's simple to make. All youdo isgrate a quantity of Cheddar cheese, say 4 ounces or 125gms, into a bowl. Add 2 tablespoons of thick cream, a littlemustard, a few drops of Worcester sauce, pepper to season and mix well together. (Some people add a spoonful of beer or stout, butthe mixture should not be too wet).

Have ready two rounds of toast and spread the cheese on top. Place undera hot grill until the cheese bubbles. A fried tomato or poached egg would be good on top. Eat immediately, but don't burn your mouth on it, like I am wont to do.

(Food has to be piping hot if I'm toenjoy it. I had a course of acapuncture once, and theChinese doctor told me that warm food is easierto digest than cold, therefore better for the body.)

If I'm in a rush, I spread butterand ready-mixed mustard over the toast, placea few slices of cheese on top and let the cheese melt in the micro wave, (the 'poppeti ping', as they say in Welsh), for thirty

seconds or so.

Oliver was in Fishguard today, on duty in the Leisure Centre.He's doing extra shifts this week to pay for theholidayin Rhodes that he and Hannah are having.

Harry has worked on Newport Beach, Poppit and Whitesands recently and he's in Broad Haven tomorrow.The RNLI lifeguards are goingto Biarritzfor a surfing holiday during the first week of September.

'So I'll be off,' saysHarry.

My daughter stares at him. 'Coleg Sir Gar startsthe first week of September, and you're not missingthe start of term'.

Looking slightlymiffed but not beaten by any means,Harry disappears upstairs, to find thestill, quiet centre of his soul, I think, or at least to exchange a few words with Oliver.

A few minutes laterit's all sorted. Harry's driving and they're goingtoBiarritz during the last week of August. It doesn't matter that they've never drivenfurther than Cardiff before.

'All you have to do is follow the map. Ollie will be the navigator.'

'Ten minutes in the car and Oliver drops off', my daughter points out.

'We can put a sat nav in, just in case, but he won't', Harry decides. His tone is that of one who will broach no further discussions on the subject.

'Where will youstay?'

'There are loadsof places to stay out there', he says airily, waving his arm in a large arc, to describe the vast number of lodgings he imagines.

And there's a twist to the tale. They'retaking a friend who is in a wheelchair, recovering from anaccident.

'Where's the wheelchair going?' Emma wonders.

Patiently, as though speaking to someone who just doesn't 'get it', Harry says slowly, 'In the boot'.

My daughter turns to me and says, 'In the boot of the Clio'.

Harry turns to me. 'What's wrong with that?'

'What about luggage?'

I should have known, they won't be needing any.And they're taking another friend as well, to see to the patient. All in the Clio. A bit like 'Ten in a bed'.

I went to Kidwelly, or Cidweli, yesterday. It was not just for a 'jolly' but to meet 95 years old Eirwen Smith.

Mrs Smith is a relative of Nita Sybil Evans, the writer of the handwritten cookery book thatI bought twenty five years ago from a market stall.

Eirwen is a delightful lady and Kidwelly is a lovely old town with a castle.

Years ago, Kidwelly was known by different names, includingCatwelli.

After the Great Plague,it is believed the first surviving creature to walk the streets was a cat.

As a symbol of salvation, the cat was honoured by being included in the town's coat of arms.

Dylan Thomas must have been aware of this legend for, in 'Under Milkwood', Captain Cat's boat was the SS Kidwelly.

'Hen Fenyw Fach Cidweli' is a nursery rhyme about a little old woman who sells black sweets (losin du). She counts ten for a halfpenny, but eleven for the narrator.

Like most rhymes, this is related to an actual incident. The 'old woman'might have been Hawise de Londres, daughter of Thomas de Londres, Lord of Kidwelly in the thirteenth century.

Hawise was the rightful owner of the castle (the Castellan) but, in those lawless times,it was snatched fromher.

Disguised as an old woman, she entered the castle to sell sweets, hoping to glean information that might help her regain the castle. Hawise's story has been immortalised for seven hundred years and more in a child's rhyme.

Harry and Oliver used to be pupils at Ysgol-y-Preseli.After school theyplayed basketball in Whitland andoccasionally,I went to fetch them.

Tired beyond talking by then, they'dhave theirsandwiches and power-drinks from the Co-Op in Hendy-Gwyn-ar-Daf.

Once,we sawHawks from Brawdyout on an exercise.

'How old do you have to be to fly aircraft?'

I wasn't sure, but George Bush Senior was an eighteen year old pilot during the Second World War.

'He was eighteen?' -(they were fourteenish then). I knew how their minds worked. Four years and they could be in the air.

'He was often sick before going out on a sortie'.

'You mean really sick? Because he might be shot down?'

Thenthere was the eighteen year old Japanese pilot whotook part in the attack on Pearl Harbour.

'Sitting downto breakfast one morning he heardthe words,'Tora, Tora,Tora'.Thecode they were waiting for.

He returned to his room, changed into clean silk underwear.'

('Why? Because hemight be shot? Killed?')

'He ate two rice cakes,prayed to the Buddha. (Harry had a Buddha in his room. They'd learnt about comparative religionin school.)

'The Wing Commander led the formation. He putthe eighteen year old last, at the back, with an experienced navigator.

Thepilot keptone hand on the bomb release button and the other on the joy stick. It was difficult to keep in formation, because of the turbulence created by the other aircraft.

He expectedto beshot down at anytime.'

('Because he was the last? And the guns would get him?')

'The navigatorcounted themdown.The pilotwent very low, lower than the others.

Hereleased thebomb, they hit target.The plane had to turn sharply,slowing it down, butthey got back to base.'

'How do you know this?'

'I read itin the "Sunday Times".An American Museum asked the pilot for his uniform.'

'Did he give it?'

'Raid on Entebbe', the 'Yangtse Incident', 'Sink the Bismarck' and others I forget now were also popular with the boys.

I stopped these stories. Oliver and Harry liked them too much.

They're going to the School ofArt, Sir Gar. I'm relieved.

'Why?' asked my daughter.

'I was afraid they'd go into the Forces after the stories I've told them.'

'Mum. Are you nuts? They'd never get into the Forces.I have to drag them out of bed each morning, otherwise they'd never make it anywhere'.