I arrived in the little sea-side resort after a long-long train journey through beautiful hills and valleys. My backpack was heavy, I was sore from the hot weather, and my legs were burning from the miles of walk in the city last night. When I left the station, I saw the first seagulls, and they were talking to me. ‘Follow me’, they chirped. And I yielded, and walked off the last bits of my legs. The sea was calling.

This was the second time I was at the sea. How can something unusual immediately feel like a lost home recovered?