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We're cold and wet and quickly realize we don't have more than a few quid. Tony goes into the White Hart and manages to convince the owner to give us a few pints and bags of crisps -- potato chips -- on credit until Richy arrives. I draw the "chicken flavored" crisps and the pint of Guinness. I'm dubious of meat-flavored potato chips at first, but my hunger wins out. I wash them down with the Guinness. The weather isn't getting any better, and there's still no sign of Richy, so we decide to retreat into the White Hart, where the owner graciously gives us coffee on credit. We sit in front of a window to keep an eye out for Richy as we sip our coffee. At this point, Tony and Jason realize there's been a miscommunication. Richy, apparently, is waiting at Llanfrynach, another pickup point where he though we were going to emerge from the woods. He had communicated that via walkie-talkie, which Jason heard and assumed Tony had heard, too. But Tony didn't hear it. He's off again in search of Richy, and this time when he returns it's in the front seat of the car, Richy beside him. After a brief lunch of pork pies and other strange meat things we bought at the grocery earlier today, we embark on our second ride.
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