We crossed the bridge to assemble at Magor with the Pirates. Of course we got the usual “drip, drip, drip, welcome to Wales” but it doesn’t last more than a couple of miles, just enough to remind you of what can happen if the Welsh Dragons decide to piss on you.

Gerllwyn and his army had arranged for us to stay at Tonna RFC. After pitching camp, Daill Golldwing took us to a beach somewhere, it was one of those places where the letters are in the wrong order and form an unpronounceable name, very strange, a holiday resort in June with no holiday makers and everywhere was closed up.

After a two mile walk around the sea front and town we found somewhere that was open. It was 2.20pm and the barmaid said “we stop serving at 2.30”. That’s ok, we formed a queue and started ordering. Blacky and I were at the back, by the time were at the front she said,” It’s 2.30, we’ve stopped taking orders” Believe me, she was serious! I think I know why it doesn’t quite work as a holiday resort.

On to the beach we strode with our buckets and spades. AJ gave the order and we commenced digging.

Once our two started to take shape they sort of gave up.

Having been pronounced the winners by an independent judge, a traitor in our midst jumped all over our castles in a fit of pique, what was that about? She spent an hour helping to build it and when we won she destroyed it, there’s no understanding women, particularly welsh ones.

Gerllwyn and Daill were thrilled to see her and that evening she met all of her Welsh uncles and aunts. Later that night, Uncle Daill took her to the bar for a nightcap and in a drunken stupor he left her there. Next morning she was still locked in and unable to come home with us. To stop the neighbours from calling “Child line”, Heidi and I have told them that Holly stayed on to do an outward-bound course with the local guide troop, which should cover us until Uncle Daill can get her back to us. However, Uncle Gerllwyn has sent me an email with a “Holiday snap” of her.