It isn't long after settling down before I begin to take photographs looking down from our balcony where the bright sunlight casts clear shadows on the tiles of the promenade. The tiles our new replacing the narrow road that used in former years to intervene between our hotel and the sea.
Among those who walk regularly by the sea from one end of the small beach to the other is a woman whose exercise involves raising her arm intermittently so that you don't know whether she is waiving or just keeping fit. Not drowning but waiving.
Somewhere en route to the hotel I hear a repeated electronic sound. "Is it me?" Nowadays so many devices call us with information of one kind or another. "It's your phone". "No it's not: my phone is switched off. At least I think it is." I pat my pockets. "But where is it? Have I lost it?" More searching. Could I have swallowed it? But the noise stops. It couldn't have been me. Or perhaps it was and someone has given up trying to reach me.