A magnificent day for Wales - a superb win against France to secure the Six Nations Grand Slam and triple Crown in front of a packed millennium stadium of 75,000 spectators. Having attended the college Open Day (while the kids played at Puddleducks day nursery in Tenby) we all settled down at Wat's to watch the match. It was a nail-biting hour and a half, but all the kids were so happy when the final whistle was blown.

A disturbed night with Geraint wandering and on manoeuvres throughout the night. Freya joined in after a couple of hours, so I cat-napped when I could. It was therefore hard to get going when we had to. But we were all out by 8am, had to be organised to beat the tide this morning. A quiet day in work sorting paperwork and doing some research in preparation for a busy day tomorrow. Weather-wise it is very wet and wild, this storm has not blown itself out yet. Another big tide expected tonight.

We survived the night...didn't get much sleep with the wind howling, rain lashing against the window and roof and the sudden gusts of wind. I stepped out an hour before high tide at about 7am to a wild, wet and freezinfg morning, with the tide right over the driveway and heading towards vehicles and buildings. At high water Watkin and Elaina came clambering in via the Big House, climbing over construction materials and in and out of ditches. The kids and I were staying put, and rather cold due to the fire blowing itself out overnight. But we soon had things going again. Clothes came out of the tumble dryer, the fire was soon roaring and we all had tea and toast. The kids were well-chuffed at having the day off. With severe weather warnings all over the west, it seemed the safest option. I posted some video clips onto FacBook, logged on to work email to keep in touch, and then settled the kids down in front of their favourite films and websites.

Just rediscovered my blog, by chance, googling Landshipping. Reading those first couple of blogs, I had mixed feelings - I am still living my Landshippng life, with the kids, but I am head of the family now, so things have not quite worked out as I expected...but that's life I guess. My enthusiasm and love for Landshipping is unabated, but having found this site I feel I should update! Well, it's 12.30am, and I am riding out (yet another) storm. This one was the lead news item on Radion 4 this morning! We had out day, as usual - riding, a yomp and ice cream down the beach, the last of the Pembrokeshire turkey for Sunday lunch (which came out of the freezer as succulent as it went in), followed by a glass of wine in front of the telly. I got the little kids home and into bed before high tide, to make sure we could get to the front door of our magnificent eco-home, just yards from the water. I have been updating my FaceBook page and keeping an ear and eye on what is going on outside. Very noisy and slightly shaky. I have the washing on, so hard to tell what's spin drier and what is gale force wind, buffeting me slightly. The biggest tide is first thing in the morning, so we will have to wait and see what daybreak brings.

It's a blustery, billowy day in Landshipping. I know that Autumn is peeking its head around the corner, but the place is still so green and alive, I want to keep believing its summer a little while longer. Today is wild, warm and not very welcoming. Neighbours' boats are rocking on their mooring chains in the metal-grey water. The tide is rushing in over the lovely, muddy riverbanks and into the pond. It's too rough to be out on the water, but that hasn't stopped an intrepid party of divers who set off on board the 'Cleddau King' with Alun at the helm early today. As I look out to my gentle trees, their muscular branches tipping in the wind and still laden with leaves, I feel a little sad because soon they will be bare and forlorn and the wind will whip past them silently when their summer lushness has passed. Wet windy days are tough when all the children are at home. The older ones want to watch MTV and sort out their school work and wardrobes, the little ones want to go out and spend their time plaguing the rest of us with demands for stories, toast and drinks, that are promptly discarded and spilled on the floor when something else catches their attention. One minute I'm reading aloud about 'Allie with an alligator in her attic', and my favourite - Unwin with an Umbrella bird in his Underwear, the next I'm discussing the properties of water and how nature has benefited from them. Yesterday I had a 'day off'. For the first time, probably since our son Geraint was born (over four years ago), Alun and I headed out of Pembrokeshire, just the two of us, for a pleasant day away. We were headed for Ludlow, for their famous Food Festival http://www.foodfestival.co.uk/demos.html#fri-dem/ where we had been invited to give a talk and cookery demonstration. At 8am Alun drove our eldest up to her school life to Haverfordwest, at 8.50 our lovely little Geraint was collected for his 20 minute ride to Templeton to his school, and we then left with darling Freya, aged 2, and took her to her nursery in Tenby. With Grandad all set to gather our little brood back in the afternoon, Alun and I were let off parenting duties for the rest of the day. Ludlow is one of my favourite market towns. I had never visited until I was sent up to the town to interview a then not well known chef called Shaun Hill. My brief was to take a culinary tour of Ludlow, with the intention of highlighting to a then somewhat cynical audience, that real, local food, purchased from quality producers and cooked with flair and imagination, might just be an alternative to ready-made meals and supermarket fare. I was taken with the atmosphere of Ludlow, with its beautiful Tudor and Georgian houses, small, real butchers and food shops, with game and cheese and locally grown fruit and vegetables proudly on display. It was quite a revelation and made a change from the then belief that the only decent restaurants were in London and the rest of us were making do with substandard food prepared by poorly-trained chefs. It was therefore very satisfying to be going back to Ludlow, this time at the behest of the Food Festival committee, to talk about my love of real, slow, wild food and to give Alun a platform to publicize his activities, from the ancient and sadly nearly extinct art of compass net fishing, to running fishing and pleasure trips on the 'Cleddau King' to foraging for and hunting food from the wild. But more about that later. For now, I want to say that Alun and I have spent the last year running our little family, driving the children from one end of the county to make sure they all did exactly what they wanted to do, running our boat and welcoming many visitors and friends to landshipping for parties, boat trips and bbq's, and coping with the daily challenges of living in a temporary home while we find a way through the planning regulations which protect this ennchanting place and drive mere mortals mad. Since moving to this incredible waterside location, I have learned that only the very wealthy, the very childless or those willing to live in rented accommodation, can have access to an area which for generations supported ordinary folk doing ordinary jobs and raising their families. In living here with our family, Alun and I are determined to pursue a lifestyle not requiring a huge income or hours locked away in airless offices, but to find a way of living a low-mantenance life while enjoying, every day, the wonders that are on our doorstep. We were delighted with the response to our talk in Ludlow, and spent the rest of the dy being accosted by members of our audience, as we wandered, child-free through the marquees and tasted some fabulous produce along the way. Wild, smoked salmon, Indian lamb kebabs, real Somerset cheddar, perry, cider, goat's cheese, artichoke hearts - after all that we had no need for a meal, and instead adjourned to the Church Inn with fellow Pembrokeshire friends who were also flying the Welsh flag in the marches and our good friends and colleagues from Ludlow. When he finally headed west at dusk, it was great to be coming home. It's good to see home from a different perspective to remember what makes it so special. As we drove over the river Teme a heron swooped down in front of us, showing his undercarriage in all its glory and it reminded me of my river and why I needed to go home.

My life on the Cleddau estuary is enchanting, challenging, annoying, beautiful and hard work. I wanted to set up a diary to record and share some of my thoughts and the everyday occurances that I experience here in the heart of Britain's only coastal National Park in the beautiful, rural Welsh county of Pembrokeshire, because our life here is anything but conventional. The next few years are going to see my partner Alun and I developing two businesses and trying to sustain ourselves and our children on the riverbank, by trying out something a bit different - and a lot more fun. This is my record of our very personal quest to go back to a gentler, sweeter, less materialist world, where we will endeavour to live in harmony with the amazing environment in which we have immersed ourselves.