Our little convoy left the ancient site playing follow-the-leader on the narrow roads. The car in front of me had instructions, in case we lost the lead car, on how to get to the car park for a quick comfort break before the next stop of the weekend. What could possibly go wrong? Well, for a start there was the traffic that separated the party. Then a sign for a car park saved the day. Except, when we nearly got there, it didn’t seem to match the instructions. Off we all went looking for the right car park… to no avail. So we went back to the first one. Which was nice and had the necessary facilities, besides being right on the beach…
We tried calling, but there was no answer. We decided that the best course of action would be to stay put and wait for rescue. A decision not in the least bit influenced by the beautiful location… or the jam-and-cream scones with large pots of tea with which we were fortifying ourselves when our guide arrived. We must have looked like naughty children when she found us… the look on her face is one my own has worn all too often when catching my sons in mischief. I’m not at all sure she was convinced of our innocence… and faced with a table full of scones and clotted cream, I can’t say I blame her. I’m not sure I would have believed us either.
Still, I was glad to see a little more of the place, if only accidentally. There are some beautiful old buildings in Newport, including parts of the Norman castle and a church of the same date with some interesting stained glass that there would be no time to visit on this trip at least. There are the earthworks and trenches of an Iron Age fort, built on a prehistoric site that dates back some nine thousand years to the mesolithic area, as well as more recent history, such as the disused lime kilns beside the car park of the little port where we had found ourselves.
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