Standing atop a sand dune; beyond me the sky flows and ripples and swells like water. Golden slicks of light are underline bruised clouds – they jostle amongst the blue and rival the drama of the sea. Southwold’s lighthouse flickers against grey. Sizewell’s power plant is lit with October sun. Suffolk’s sky gives us everything that the North Sea cannot. Today the wind washes over the sand dunes. The dog annoys other dogs. We stop and call his name until the dart of wet, grainy fur shoots back our way. We could walk on the dune, with the sea to our left and marshland to our right, until we get to Minsmere. But it doesn’t take long for the wind to blow our energy into wholesome, healthful submission. So we walk past the black beach huts to the car. The sky settles into darkness by the time we’re home.