SHETLAND WEST OF WALES

Pembrokeshire is often described as "little England west of Wales". Be that as it may, the 'house' where I've been staying for the past 12 days is, from its twee Scots name, a little piece of Shetland on the Pembrokeshire Coast.

It would have been better had it been England!

Here's some holiday advice - particularly if you, like me, are somewhat suspicious of the Scots and their purposes: Do not hire a Scottish house (accurately 'terraced cottage') in Wales from people who live in Essex. The combination is not agreeable even if the location, Newport Pembs, is very attractive indeed.

OK, Ok. I know I'm very tall but the doorways were low even by dwarfish Shetland standards. One puts up with that sort of thing (just) even though it means having to creep about like an octogenarian. But what about that architectural afterthought than an estate agent might risibly describe as the 'bathroom complex'?

Do you know the old joke: "When I was young we had an outside lavatory; then we saved up some money and bought a house." Well there was something of that.

Let me take you in by the front door. As you enter you are immediately faced by an unexpected and, to be fair, attractive black laquered staircase rising to the two small bedrooms. Avoiding this one ducks left into a parlour with a floor embellished with rush matting held to the rather worn tiles by silver gaffer tape.

Crouch through a door that even Mickey Rooney would have trouble with and into the kitchen area where on the left, in a nod to geography, is a Welsh dresser stacked with non-descript china that one may not use - it's there for the look.

Duck under an arch for the tiny washing-up 'zone' and then again duck (having moved no more than a further six feet) through what was originally the back door.

Notice something missing - like the loo and bathroom for instance?

Aha. Now we're into an outhouse with a second back door to the left and rough concrete flooring underfoot. There's a captivating display of old shoes and boots to the right and an Edwardian wood and cast iron drying-rack above, just in position to give a good whack to the cranium just in case one has managed to dodge all the other obstacles to that point.

Finally to the right we have a bathroom and separately a loo where the lavatory itself is only barely attached to the ground (I hesitate to say 'floor') and gives the impression - should one choose to shift position and set off a bout of rocking - of being at sea. There's something about water in the lavatory pan slopping about to confirm one isn't at home.