CASTLES MELLOW

We sat in the shade of a castle wall. The Welsh flag fluttered at half-mast, white and green against the blue sky.

I like a castle. Once great symbols of power and strength, impossible to enter uninvited, and a silhouette, a warning on the skyline to invaders and rebels. Nowadays, they do everything they can to invite you in, rather than keep you out.

You can stand on rough, weather-beaten stones and look over the town through holes where glass would once have been. You can wander around the cool green grass that grows upon the banqueting hall floor and imagine the feast, or you can rest in the shade of crumbling walls and eat a quiet picnic, the like of which would have been unimaginable hundreds of years ago.

This castle, and the town around it, was and still is, Haverfordwest. We'd arrived by bus, just a short twenty minute breeze through country lanes, and we'd slowly climbed the steep hill, winding through the houses to the castle, the county records office and the Haverfordwest Town Museum.

My Dad instantly took the opportunity to talk to the lady outside about the flowers she was busily watering. He has an uncanny ability to recognise a moment, and so soon it was a discussion on how often to water hanging baskets in this heat, what kind of fertiliser to use and how brightly these little purple flowers (I forget their name) grow in the shade.

My Mum and I walked around the Museum, discovering the history of the town. There was a chair that David Lloyd George (a famous Welsh politician) had sat in in 1909. There were British Army uniforms, glistening red with their crown-imprinted brass buttons. There was an old violin, photographs of great speeches, an enormous wooden milk churn, and a Victorian cash register with stiff iron levers. It struck me as interesting how everything either mellows or seizes up with time.

Back out in the sunlight, my Dad was still explaining plants. I went back and sat in the shade of the castle wall.

Castles definitely mellow. They don't seize up. The stones are eroded by time and wind, and the sound of swords and battle slowly turns to birdsong and breezes. Oh and picnics.

After all that, we had a look around the town and got back on the 4:25 bus to Broad Haven, along with all the teenagers heading for the beach.