LET'S start with a follow up to last week's TRM Trawler Corner tale, in which the Abelard featured.

It described how the ship's Mate, William Adams, was severely injured from a blast in the Fish Room, and ended with his having to be admitted into the County Infirmary in Haverfordwest.

It's not always that we get to learn more after these news snippets, which is why I am particularly grateful to William's granddaughter Connie, who rang to say that, as a result of the terrible burns he'd received, William Adams, sadly, died.

I think we might as well stay in our trawling gear so we can steer, smoothly, into this week's Trawler Corner, where we'll find The Whitby, M141, waiting for us. A steel-sided trawler, built 1898 in Irvine. 163 tons. 104' long. Landed at Milford from Feb 1928 to March 1941.

Local owners…Frank Youds, Dartmouth St, Milford…Pettit & Youds, Milford Docks and J. L. Yolland, Pill Lane, Milford.

Skippers...William Hannaford and W. Aldous.

There was an interesting news cutting from an August 1929 local paper, showing that, on occasions, there was a little ‘devilment’ hanging in the salt air, when Neyland Skipper, William Hannaford, appeared at the Milford Sessions, having been summoned by the Dock master, W R Marrs, for disobeying his orders, when in command of the trawler Whitby.

Allegedly, when the line of vessels was coming into the docks, the Whitby suddenly, from the rear, passed three vessels, and, despite orders to the contrary, cut into the line. Then…despite requests…refused to go astern.

The Justice's Clark, Mr H J E Price asked if he'd had any trouble with him before.

The reply of..."No, not before...but since!" brought laughter to the proceedings.

Skipper Hannaford was fined £5.

Then, in the WW Guardian of April 1941 came the report that, while fishing from a West Coast port, the Whitby was sunk, after being attacked by a German aircraft.

Skipper Noel Bray, on the steam drifter Jacklyn, going to the rescue, was also bombed and machine-gunned, but managed to pick up the Whitby crew and take them to safety.

And for this act of bravery, Skipper Bray was awarded the MBE by King George VI.

Here, from the superb Stevo collection, is a snap of the Whitby.

Having come across some really old photos this week, I've decided to indulge myself in my own little fantasy world…one which I created last year, when Martin Wilcox, chairman of Milford Haven Round Table invited me, once again, to write something for their carnival magazine.

Using the two snaps, here's an extended version of how me and my family might have reacted, when the Steam Ship Gaspesia docked in the Port, in the 1890s, when attempts to become a trans-Atlantic port were at their height.

The conversation in the Dunn household, may have gone something like this.

"What's the matter now, why are you limping?" My dad sounded unsympathetic…I used to fall over something or other on a daily basis!

"I fell over that pile of rubble down the railway station. I wanted to take a closer look at the special train that's come for the big ship…the Dyspepsia”.

"It's called the Gaspesia," said my mum, giving my sore knee a rub, "let me see…are you bleeding?".

"He's a bleeding nuisance," whispered my dad, under his breath.

"There's a big poster about it," I blurted out, "it say's we can go to Canada for eight guineas. I wanna be a Mountie, Can we go, dad?". "Ask your mother," he replied, and went outside to light up his pipe.

"Mam…dad said we can go to Canada for eight guineas".

"Is that so?" replied my mum, sardonically, "and is that the same dad who refuses to pay the halfpenny toll to cross the bridge to Hakin?"

Right, that's enough of my nonsense, now time for teasers.

Last week's answer was...Every month, and was easily spotted by...Martin at Todaro's, Joyce Layton, Eric Harries, Les Haynes, Margaret Jones, Marie Parr, Elinor Jones, John Glover, Anne and Jets Llewellyn, Larry Robinson, Ken Goldspink and Joan Earles. Thanks to all who got in touch.

See what you make of this one.

A man was walking in the rain in the middle of nowhere. He had nothing, and nowhere to hide. He came home all wet, but not a single hair on his head was wet. Why was that?

Hope you're enjoying our TRMs...at least it's a Brexit free zone!

I'd better let you get on. See you next time.