Driving around the harbour on the way up to the new house was a luxury, as it took a circular diversion from the main road, when we were already excited about having seen the restaurant called the Angry Cheese. If we arrived when the tide was out then all of the boats would be stuck in the mud, and there would be gulls picking at scraps from the bed.

Just past the harbour proper, where fishermen used to haul in their catches the air smelt heavy of uncooked supper, there was a jetty, and then the long straight prominade with the fairground at either end. The one near the railway crossing was the best, it had an old galloping horse ride and a long plastic slide, bigger than a helter skelter, where twice I got friction burns when my hand slid down on the plastic.

You could walk the length of the beach from here, up to the steep steps that took you back to the new house, or just go part way and then back along the side of the railway track with the trains hooting and the passengers waving, and the watercress growing on the side, ready to be transplanted into the lunchtime salad.