Every once in a while you get back from the beach, sand still between your toes, and realise you've had a "perfect day". Something has clicked and, like one of those exotic planetary alignments, a combination of factors have conspired to take just another day by the ocean and turn it into something memorable.
These "perfect days" are unique and fused into your memory for reasons often only vaguely understood and rarely articulated. Maybe it was the wind and the walk and the sandblasting you get on a wild western shore. Perhaps it was the waves and the sky and the salt and the seagull's squawk. Whatever the reason, we were fortunate enough to chalk up another such day at Porthgwidden Beach in St.Ives.
Nothing exotic really. The weather was fine. The kids caught some crabs and shrimps and stuck them in a bucket. Wavelets lapped against the shore, small and gentle enough to encourage even the babies into the surf. Sea nymph rubbed cream on my shoulders and held her hair up so I could reciprocate. Fine food at the Porthgwidden cafe. Time passed and nobody noticed. Like I said, perfect.