THE SUNSET AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

It felt like the edge of the world.

The sun, full and round, hung low over the sea, casting a golden path from horizon to sand. The sky, cloudless and blue, stretched out beyond it as though it was a curtain to somewhere uncharted, a wall of fading light above the silhouetted land.

I smiled as the waves lapped gently against the sand, steadily collapsing in straight lines along the shore.

I like a sea-side sunset - there's a magic to it. The low-angled light catches the edges of things and paints their outlines with silver - buildings, boats, beer glasses, elbows, knees, rocks, windswept hair - all magically highlighted, and alive with light from the great disc at the end of the world. I like the way that figures turn and cast long, unnatural shadows across the flat, wet sand, while all of us are bathed in that warm gold light.

I'm here then - on holiday with the Intrepids. My sisters think I'm crazy, and for a while I wondered whether it was a good idea myself. However, I still think there will come a day when they wished they'd thought of it.

We're staying in a place called Little Haven, in West Wales, which (contrary to what my work colleagues predicted) is turning out to be... delightful, and not the setting for a zombie-apocalypse or mysterious deadly sea-mist. Well, at least not so far, anyway. It's a tiny cove of cobbled and colourful houses, two timber-beamed pubs and a view of the bay. A little further round is the long, flat sand of Broad Haven, upon which I found myself watching the sun setting magically over the great Atlantic, having excused myself from the Intrepids for an hour. Life felt incredibly balanced in that moment.

I think that's what this week will be about - finding the enjoyment by creating just the right amount of balance. Tip one way and we'll be into the world of uncertainty my Dad hates - tip the other, and we'll be bored and my Mum will not enjoy it. Spend too much time together, even just a little bit too much, and I'll be longing for the air of my own company; stay too long with the shadows on the sunset beach and I'll be slipping into melancholy faster than the sun slips out of sight.

So, it's balance then, carefully, beautifully, gently resolving the tension between the comfort of the shore and the great unknown adventure of the horizon. I can do this.