I have lived in St Ives for nearly twelve years, and yet I have never sat on the beach and watched the sun go down. The drive home from judo on Friday evenings goes past Porthmeor Beach. As I drove past this week, the sun was starting it's descent into the sea. The colour of the sky was stunning. A streak of pink which seemed to envelope the beach and give it a technicolour hue. There were people sitting on the sand and around the beach bar watching this natural finale to what had been a glorious day.
On Saturday Marc, Olly and me spread our throw over the hot white sand of Porthmeor and settled down to await the sunset. The beach was not too busy. The surf dudes were out in force. No surf, so it was volleyball and rounders. There were family groups sat around barbecues, enjoying the evening sunshine. It was warm, without the scorching heat of earlier that day. Perfect in fact. Olly and Marc splashed in the sea. Olly played with his toys while Marc and I talked. I chatted to friends, people watched (a favourite past-time) and relaxed.
We shared chips smothered in salt and vinegar. Marc drank cold beer. I got Olly changed into his pyjamas, for seamless beach to car to bed manoeuvres. The light was so bright and bounced off the sand making all the primary colours stand out.
And then without warning the light changed. It became softer and the colours more muted. The atmosphere became noticeably different too, and when I looked around it felt as if I was sitting inside an old Polaroid photograph. There was grainy texture to the light which was diffused with orange. It felt so tangible, and it seemed to me as if I could reach out my hand and grab a handful.
And so we watched the sun go down.
It was so beautiful.