I’m sitting at the table in Myn Tea.
It’s midnight and then some.
We’re just in from the garden where a few friends have been sitting out, watching the waxing moon, listening to the sea, and discussing the madness of the Lafrowda Oscars which took place at Cape School in St Just tonight.
It could only happen here.
And I talked about last night.
Waking at 4.00am, and knowing that there would be no more sleep for a long time, and so I’d best make the most of my time.
I got up and gently raised Polly, the dog.
We walked off to the beach in the silvery moonlight.
Sitting on Gwenver at 04.30 in the morning, catching glimpses of the moon off the water, the air still warm, mid-October. No one to be seen.
And feeling that I was the luckiest man in the world.
The air is rarely still here, but it was this morning. Making it all the greater as a gift.
A moment in time.
And only Polly to share it with.
Polly who bravely chased away the foes who existed in her imagination.
Such a shame her chase was sometimes so vocal.
Now I’d best seek that sleep that eluded me last night.