Portclew Guesthouse. My posh B&B including a lovely cat. I ate at the "Freshwater Inn", which is a ten minute walk down the road. I ate badly again. One should avoid anything sounding Italian in that area. My "lasagne" would have made any Italian cry. I should have known better after almost two months in bella Italia. But I spent a nice evening with Diane and John who I chatted with on the coast path and met again at the pub. They have a house in Wales with bats. One fell off the ceiling into the gravy. Bat gravy.