“To begin at the beginning: It is a spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and the hunched, courters’-and-rabbits’ wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.” Today is Dylan day;

I may not see the coast today, as the path heads down the River Towy and back up the River Taf. It’s also very misty, which is not great for a pre-dawn walk along a long road section. I’m happy

Although the wind and rain woke me around 1am, I slept for a record 12 hours. I think the early start yesterday, plus the long walk, caught up with me. It’s a misty morning. I rustle up some porridge and

It’s a cold, grey winter’s day, as I cross the Loughor Bridge, into Carmarthenshire. The welcome sign displays in Welsh before English, a reversal in order on crossing the county boundary, due to the much higher use of the Welsh