19. Dunwich to Aldeburgh | 17.07.12

Heading out in the unusual bright sunshine I stomp through the shingle for half an hour until the sea retreats to reveal damp firm sand perfect for walking. Looking out to sea I spy an animal and this time it’s not a seal, it’s a real labroador. Sizewell’s unearthly dome shimmers in the distance and getting closer I scuttle past not wanting to linger. Head down I walk to my own rhythm, passing the grand, coloured houses of Thorpeness and soon Aldeburgh with its “fresh fish, anything fresher is still swimming”.
Strains of music reach me, or is it the wind? Tired and happy I stare at the words on the Scallop – “I hear those voices that will not be drowned”. Did I?