Good Moon Rising

I ran away to sea and took every cliched photo it’s possible to take: rows of coloured beach-huts (extra), the slowly rotting wooden shelter where old men sit and gaze (or younger men unroll their sleeping bags), people swimming, people surf-boarding, rows of groynes, the inevitable paraglider, an astonishing great orange glow emerging from the deep blue which, as I watched, mesmerised, I realised was the full moon.

(I also swam.)