A cat can only take so much of these rocks; sold to me as food by the one who doesn’t ever eat them! I decided what I needed was a really good pig, but enough of the ‘pretend owner’ of this place… it’s time I went on a Welsh safari. I hear Carmarthen is a good place for livestock, so let’s go check out what it has to offer for the discerning cat.

After a tortuous rail journey made interesting only by sea and estuarine views after Swansea, arrival in Carmarthen station leaves little to suggest I’m on track for anything exciting. Better follow the locals I guess, as they seem to all be heading for this strangely bridge shaped footpath to who knows where.

First sight suggests the locals have built fortifications many years ago to keep the outsider pig chasers at bay. Though I’d have to say they got a little architecturally conflicted between ideas of battlements and bureaucracy; with former looking slightly less imposing than the paper-chasers fortress…

Still no sign of the elusive porkers, but perhaps this old guy has realised an elevated position gives you a vantage point to spot the critters, or maybe it’s a defence against a local custom stolen and adapted from the Pamplona… ‘the running of the pigs‘ through the streets of Carmarthen!

Too much searching takes its toll, so this looks like as good a place as any for resting up before the next exertions. But hold on a minute, is the name trying to tell me something?

Perhaps a settling of the thirst will help the concentration on the task at hand. Let’s check out the local brew from down the road close to Llanelli, what’s it called again? Oh yes, its  Felinfoel with the standout pint of Double Dragon… scary stuff, eh?

Time to survey the menu to see if that pesky pig has happened by this old place; or is it just the ancient site or resting place for the head of the king boar?

Funny isn’t it, us cats can exert so much energy in the hunt for something. Then when you sit down and relax it just falls into your lap! The exalted pig arrived in the juiciest of forms, complete with the trimmings of its natural habit… the majestic fry-up!

Now that I’ve plundered Carmarthen of its best hog it’s time to make a discreet getaway. So, where did I leave that super-charged chariot of mine? Oh no, not the dreaded local conveyance! Since when did the coracle represent the height of decadent movement? Until we speak again I’m going to be perambulating Bella, but then I guess I need to exercise away the additional pig I’m carrying.