If you’re lucky enough to spot this humble hotel sign hidden beneath overgrown hedgerows of hazel and blackthorn it will point you toward your final destination, the end of the world.

Perched atop a fast retreating Pembrokeshire coastline lies The Druidstone Hotel, a magical place that I’ve managed to keep to myself for nearly 40 years. This remarkable haven lies at the end of a progressively narrow and meandering country ‘road’, over cattle grids of varying dilapidation and past a solitary bright red post box (the last vestige of civilisation you’ll likely see until your return).