The wi-fi is a little erratic at the Druidston Hotel, perched on a cliff top in the western extremities of Wales. But wi-fi of any sort is unexpected in the wonderful other-timeliness, which is part of the unique charm of this place, one of the loveliest hotels in Wales, if not Britain. Communications are thus a little tortuous, and encourage more time for the greedy filling of lungs with ozone charged with sea spray, heather and bracken while striding the hairy undulations of the coast path.

Nature chucks in a soundtrack of twittering oyster catchers, keening gulls and squawking choughs (oh yes, Mr Oddie), supported by the ceaseless thud and hiss of waves onto the broad sands of Druidston Haven.

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