Sitting on a bench overlooking the sea on an unseasonably warm November day, the thin, hazy sun reflects silver and grey and lights the autumn flowering of gorse on the cliffs behind. There’s a slight breeze and few birds, save the odd passing gull and a shag diving between crests in the waves. The sun’s glare closes my eyes and I’m aware of the sound of the gently breaking surf. It’s soft, calming, continuous and at the same time intermittent; I’m mesmerised. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, just an everyday sound that I realise I miss most times I walk these very familiar cliff paths. I finally open my eyes and realise how fortunate I am to live in this wonderful place.