Blwyddyn Newydd yn Sir Benfro: Rhan Tri

One of the consequences of getting older is that, sometimes, common-sense prevails over doing something potentially daft. And so it was today when the 80 mph or so winds of Storm Eleanor made us think twice about walking along the cliffs near St David's. So it was off to the sands at Newgale instead as a very acceptable alternative.

A hazy sun over the 2 mile stretch of sands that comprise Newgale. The tide was out and the wind was pushing a thin film of water over the beach.

The wind was also whipping a froth of spume, making for interesting shapes and the occasional snow-like flurry.

Look - no people. Where are the faint hearts when Storm Eleanor is around? In the café at the end of the beach, that's where. And that's where we ended up. Sands, it's called, and it's worth a visit.

One of the characteristics of Newgale beach is that it is bounded by a large embankment of pebbles and rocks washed up by the sea. The sea regularly washes over the embankment and floods the road, and campsite, on the other side. In fact, the road was closed for a few hours last night at high tide and the height of Storm Eleanor.

Lots and lots of these AEDs (automatic external defibrillators) are around nowadays situated in various public places. This one is at the side of the public loo at Newgale. It strikes me that public-access AEDs such as this one must spend endless days, months and even years hanging on a wall, gathering dust. And probably most AEDs reach the end of their expected 5- to 10-year lifetimes without ever having been used. Yet they must remain fully charged, functional, and ready to operate at a moment’s notice, often by people who have never seen a defibrillator outside of Holby City or Casualty. Who maintains them? How often are they used? And will they be replaced when they get too old? Lots of questions: no answers. But they cross my mind every time I see an AED. Will it work if I suddenly collapsed and needed it?

Oystercatchers. Not a rare bird but a little unusual to see them in relatively large numbers around these parts. They've probably been forced inland by the storm. Their cry is very evocative of the Scottish Islands where they seem to be as common as sparrows are in Cornwall.

A lone cormorant doing a spot of body-surfing off Caerfai Bay in St David's.

We like to end each day sitting in the car looking at the sea. There really is nothing quite like an ever-changing seascape.

Waves in greyscale. I like the effect although a little fiddling in Photoshop would make it better.