MIKE EDWARDS

IT IS raining.

As far as I can tell, the garden is happy. The lawn is greener, and the plants look perkier.

darkness. Without it, I would be hopelessly lost.

PLANS for a housing development in St Dogmaels, which a local community group feared may become second homes or holiday lets, have been withdrawn.

The application to build 15 mixed house-type homes, and associated works including a new access, at land adjoining Green Meadow, Pilot Street, was made by Enzo’s Estates Ltd.

The applicant has previously said the principle of the residential development on the site had been established through a previous approved outline permission in 2006, and a later reserved matters consent in 2010.

The application, which was to be considered by Pembrokeshire County Council planners, has now been withdrawn following a planning officer evaluation.

The evaluation said the proposed scheme conflicted with Future Wales and Local Development Plan policies, amongst others, and would “lead to adverse biodiversity impacts contrary to the duties placed on the local planning authority by the Environment (Wales) Act 2016 and would not positively contribute towards the achievement of sustainable development”.

Local community council St Dogmaels discussed the application back in April, unanimously agreeing to object to it.

Concerns raised included the proposed development not meeting local housing needs, and environmental concerns including land drainage.

A change.org petition against the proposed development by community group Llandudoch Yfory (St Dogmaels Tomorrow) collected nearly 1,000 signatures.

“The community of St Dogmaels is currently facing a substantial threat

It added: “Llandudoch Yfory (St Dogmaels Tomorrow) believes that this application is unacceptable and does not reflect the needs of the locality. Green Meadow is a precious green area which should be kept and sympathetically developed for the benefit of the village community.”

The petition also claims that the proposed new dwellings are “of a size and price that does not answer our community’s needs”.

It raises concerns that new properties could become second homes or holiday lets, and could have “a detrimental impact on the Welsh language and culture”.

The now withdrawn application, in support of the development, said the site within the settlement area, could be considered a ‘windfall’ site, which would “make an important contribution to meeting the housing supply”.

CARDING MILL

LANE, a public bridleway in Narberth, is to remain traffic-free after local landowners dropped a claim that they had a right to drive motor vehicles on part of it.

Used by walkers, cyclists and horseriders, Carding Mill Lane leaves Narberth Town Moor adjacent to the RAOB Club and links to Canaston Wood and beyond.

In January 2021 the owners of land that was previously part of Plas Farm claimed to have a right to drive vehicles on part of the lane, declaring what they believed to be a private right of way over it.

Pembrokeshire County Council did not accept the claimants had provided sufficient evidence of a private vehicular right of way and believed that the claimed right of way would be dangerous to the legitimate users of the bridleway. Additionally part of Carding Mill Lane runs across local authority land, which also has bridleway and Village Green status.

Having gathered statements from a large number of residents, the Council put forward a case to the Land Registry and claimants of the vehicular right of way which was due to be heard at a Land Registry tribunal.

At the last minute the landowners withdrew from the tribunal, conceding no private right existed. The claimants agreed to pay £7,500 to the Council to cover the expense of its withdrawn application.

Cllr Marc Tierney, County Councillor for Narberth Urban, said: “Carding Mill Lane is an important and well used active travel gateway to and from Narberth. It is

The mood of vegetation is difficult to guess. It’s not as if I’m Prince Charles. If I start chatting to my petunias, my beloved will have me whisked away to a room with padded walls to spend the rest of my life singing, “Why do you Whisper Green Grass?”

The rain has not deterred the missus from taking her daily walk. No tempest is complete without her donning her kagoule and venturing into its midst.

I support my wife’s wish to extend her life through participation in physical exercise. It’s admirable. I commend it.

The problem arises with joining her in excursions into the rain and wind. I’m neither a fan of being soaked to the bone nor getting pummelled by 40mph winds. The missus insists. The worse the weather, the keener she is for me to join her.

A man of my age and waist size is in no danger of being blown away, even by hurricane-force winds. In my heart of hearts, I know that to be the case. When the wind picks up, inflates my hood and starts making my coat rattle, I nevertheless fancy I could end up somewhere that isn’t Kansas anymore.

The Land of Oz or maybe Rosemarket.

The rain rattling against my hood makes me deaf. The raindrops that cover my glasses make me blind. The gale staggers my footsteps. Sightless, deaf and unsteady on my feet, I could be heading anywhere. Only the sight of my darling’s yellow kagoule ahead guides me through the enjoyed by locals and visitors alike.

“Following action by the County Council this route will be protected for those who use it for walking, cycling and horse riding.”

And that’s before we reach the end of our drive.

Once we get out into the back lanes and paths that crisscross the village, I am even more reliant on the wife’s blurry yellow form guiding me. So you can imagine my horror when, after pausing for a prostate break (ahem), I looked around, and the yellow blur was nowhere to be seen.

I called out to my beloved, but the wind swallowed my words and spat them back at me.

I felt alone. The wind howled. The branches above me creaked ominously. With a sense of timing that suggests the existence of a cruel deity, a large drop of water fell into my face from the trees overhead, momentarily blinding me.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder.

Never mind my prostate. My bowels lurched, and my heart skipped a beat.

I turned around. There was a hooded figure in a yellow kagoule. Either it was the wife or the grim reaper had a sense of humour.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Mike Edwards?”

That was no reassurance that Death himself had not come to claim me.

“Bloody standing there soaked through like a pillock. Let’s get home before you catch your death.”

Nope. It was the wife. I took her hand.

It was almost spectrally white and chilled from the cold. Ahead there was a street lamp. I shrugged my shoulders and walked towards the light.