THE SKY AND THE SEA AIR

We are on holiday. It’s our first ‘real’ vacation (if you don’t count our honeymoon, which, if anyone asks you, I definitely do) and it’s well-timed and well-needed.

So let’s do the ‘where’. We’re in Walberswick, which is a small Suffolk village on the cusp of the North Sea. It’s a quaint place - posh warm pubs, cottages with trailing ivy, high hedges and no street lamps. The puddled lanes lead down to the sea.

Friends of ours own a holiday home here and as a wedding gift, they’re letting us use it for half-term. It is a wonderful gift; the place is charming, and within just a few hours of arriving, we both remarked on how relaxed we already felt.

I didn’t help with that today when I fell down the stairs.

I don’t exactly know what happened. Socks, stairs, not concentrating - the maths is all there, but it was a jumbled mystery at the time. Before I knew it, I was thudding down the steps like it was the end of Eastenders.

I was alright. Less relaxed than I had been,  but okay.

Before too long, we were happily on our way to see the sea. It’s just a minute or two down the road.

One thing about this part of the world that I just love, is that the sky is so huge. With no hills or tall buildings, no forests or trees to speak of, the great sky stretches down to the sea, and is a canvas of almost infinite glory.

We stood on the shore beneath the cirrus and stratus clouds, watching the grey waves roll and crash onto the stones. The wind was strong, blowing as it does onshore, and the North Sea and spray speckled into the air.

“What is it about the sea?” asked Sammy, thrusting a hand into mine. The stones crunched beneath our feet. I told her it was just the rhythm and safety of it alongside the peril and adventure of being on the very edge of the land. She’s cleverer than me: she said she thought it was about the delicate balance of earth, moon, ocean and land, a kind of cosmic equilibrium of gravity. Fair enough.

Later, the sun shimmered into pink and purple and the white horses of foam were catching glimpses of gold. In this part of the world, the sun sets behind the land. We stood once again under the enormous sky, thanking God for our moment, our opportunity to be there.

“How’s your back?” she asked later. Remarkably, I had forgotten all about my tumble. I must be more resilient than I thought, more bouncy, more youthful somehow. Or maybe it’s just the sea air.