Something big this way comes...

Something large, noisy, yellow and mechanical arrives...

...now it is busy digging on The Moor.

'The Boy' (Brian, 49) looks on. Occasionally there's a 'toot toot' from John JCB in the digger for 'The Boy' to move a flagstone or assist in some other way. The first of two 'scrapes' has been dug. They must be five metres across; shallow scrapes as new watery habitat for our newts and frogs.

John JCB likes 'The Boy' and has telephoned to check he'll be around this weekend and not working. 'The Boy' lops tree branches off so they don't scratch the digger and gets a Murray Mint as a reward.

John JCB sculpts the second of the two scrapes. This one is fed by a sparkling spring. We stop thinking 'frogs' and start thinking 'ducks'. John JCB realises he has an audience of two women and two little girls and chases 'The Boy' with the bucket. He looks over at his audience with a cheeky grin as 'The Boy' dives for cover.

There's tremendous skill to wielding such a machine. John JCB uses the bucket like it's an extension of his arm. Yesterday he cleared the lambing shed with his other digger and piled the manure in the garden (it looks like Everest at the moment, but it will rot).

The stream is trickling clean, clear water into the 'scrape'. We note how deep it is, stop thinking 'ducks' and start thinking 'wild swimming'.

Just a final bit of patting and sculpting. Edges cannot be left untidy, John JCB is a craftsman. He's also a character - I once had a whole conversation with him where his gaze never left the comfort of my cleavage while he regaled me with tales of 'f***ing this' and 'f***ing that' with my two little girls listening in with wide eyes and big ears. I'd love to think of him meeting the Queen, I'm sure he'd say something (in his broad Pembrokeshire accent) about the 'f***ing weather, Ma'am, while gazing happily at the Royal bosom.

The side effect of digging - useful flagstone sized bits of slate.

The liberated stones piled into the garden. They've been slumbering underground for who knows how many years. Now they face a new life over ground as part of our garden.

Walking in Pembrokeshire: Lawrenny

My Lawrenny: (clockwise from top left): Me at the helm of our boat; sailing;
our Pembrokeshire corgi Skipper; the caravan at Mountain Park Farm.

I spent a lot of time in Lawrenny when I was a kid. We had a 22-foot Ballerina sailing boat moored there and went down to sail Sea Dance almost every weekend until I was about eight or nine.

Mum and Sukey rowing out to the boat; Dad at the helm; our first Land Rover;
rowing out to the boat; Dad helming on a sunnier day; Skipper.

The marina is still very much there as is the cafe but it if anything it's even more lovely now than it was when I was a child. The play park where my sister and I played has gone, as has the slide from the quay to the beach, but the cafe is greasy spoon no more. These days it's an award-winning tea room serving delicious lunches - but more of that later.

We had an end of term treat yesterday, Jo and I. Her idea. She said she would treat me to lunch in return for the lovely cakes I had made for our walks over the past school year (our walking timetable is very much influenced by the school calendar). So I drove and we headed for Lawrenny as it has a perfect three mile circular walk which starts, conveniently, by the tea rooms.

Park at the Quay and then head on, dragging yourself past the tea rooms and the tempting allure of its specials blackboard, and turn left on through the boat yard, following the signs into Lawrenny woods.

The path meanders through the woods with some short but steep rocky scrambles and then brings you down into Garron Pill. You know you've got there by the smell of the seaweed and the sound of curlews calling.

Jo identifies the curlews.

The path takes you alongside the roots of the gnarled old oaks on the foreshore and round into Garron Pill.

We were hoping to see egrets but we only spotted curlews and a mullet which was in the shallows.

These deep inlets provide the perfect feeding habitat for shorebirds.

Then follow the path up the hill towards pretty Lawrenny village. On the way we picked up a canine guide at the entrance to one of the farms. There are two routes back to the quay, one through the village, the other past the church and across the fields.

The correct route, we are shown, is this one past the church.

We did have to negotiate a herd of cattle which was sleeping across the path in front of the gate, but they moved when the dog approached.

A fine view of the estuary. No osprey today.

We arrived back at the quay at 1pm - perfect timing. Lunch was crab sandwiches and salad for Jo with smoked mackerel pate and toast for me. We shared a pitcher of elderflower spritzer.

The tea rooms were definitely popular - not quite full but nearly - but the service was so smooth and efficient it made us laugh (in a very good way). The granary toast with my pate was hot which is always a good sign. Then it rained and the staff rescued those who had risked it to lunch outside and we decided to have cake. Again the service was so efficient that, as we sat down again from the difficult decisions at the cake counter, our desserts arrived like magic. We giggled at this, as did the waitress. All the staff were lovely and happily directed lost walkers to the start of the path (and lent them maps of the route for a £1 deposit).

There's a children's menu too (tuna and mayo sandwiches, for example) and a healthy wine list with other drinks in jugs: Pimms, Sangria.

Cakes are served on Cath Kidston plates which just adds to the prettiness of the occasion.

Jo's blueberry cheesecake.

It is our duty to return to test the rest of the cakes.

My chocolate torte.

Afterwards we sat on the quay looking out across the stretch of water I sailed so many times and shared a coffee. The perfect end of term treat - thanks Jo!