Readers with short memories will by now have forgotten the tremendous cold we experienced early in December (writes Philip Marsden).

And people with even shorter memories will have forgotten how that freezing weather changed to warm and wet leading up to Christmas. The most recent meeting of the Tenby Poets was on the day of the interchange when not only was it desperately cold; it was also drowning wet with strong winds howling down the medieval streets of Tenby. Captain Oates would have given it a miss that day; but not the poets. They took up the challenge.

I had doubted whether the poets would dare to brave these elements in numbers enough to make a quorum. Also, the final of the World Cup was a bit of a competing factor. However, worry ye not. Through the Cathedral doors of the Old Chapel, they flooded in and started on time.

The first offering was an ode by Thomas Gray written just after his famous Elegy. This ode was very sad in that it concerned a lady cat which drowned when it fell into a tub of goldfish. It had tried eight times to climb out. It appealed to the Gods of the Stream but in the end, it succumbed to the inevitable. At this point there was a tremendous commotion. Rattling and banging on doors roof, and windows. It was the storm. “Ignore it. Let’s get on.” But then disembodied voices were heard through the letter box “Let us in”. Well, we didn’t initially for the morals and messages of the dead cat theme could not wait and all agreed that “women just cannot resist gold”. Of course. All that glitters is not.

Kath O was on next, and impatient to begin and reminding us that the season ahead was that of goodwill to all men. She recited “White Christmas”. Told us the bookmakers odds for the evidence of a snow flake on Broadcasting House on Christmas Day and was indifferent to the plight of the drowning poets now croaking through the letter box.

Poet Liz is now very important. Since the last meeting she has appeared publicly at celebrated gatherings, hobnobbing along with Dukes, Duchesses and Viscounts, no less. She writes all her own work but for those who subscribe to the “Literature Channel” the problem is, is she is ever off the screen. A cross between Fiona Bruce, Meghan, and Christina Rosetti. Kath O. was on again with “Smoke Lovely” an appalling poem. Never heard worse but it broke member’s concentration. We decided to allow the drowning members in. Kath offered each of them a “Capstan Full Strength” and a prayer.

Christian, by far and away the coolest of our members, offered us snatches of Dylan Thomas, and in particular a few words encapsulating gentle fragrant winds. At which, with thoughts ahead, Anne said she was mindful of Brussel Sprouts and her Christmas Dinner, and then launched into her “Christmas at Four Winds Farms”. Four winds not one wind. Amazing imagination that lady has.

Philip sang which he seems to enjoy but his is really for minority tastes and the Chairlady’s gavel very soon fell. Those drowned rats took objection to being serenaded with “Girls were made to love and kiss when the wet had seeped right through”.

Next meeting is on January 15, 2023 at 3pm in the lovely Old Chapel on Lower Frog Street. We are keen to welcome new members. This Club offers fun and intellect all in one….at absolutely zero cost. The town is blessed to have such an organisation.

Finally, the poets wish all readers their very best wishes for the New Year.