What I learnt from a weekend spent in Suffolk's seaside towns

If you've reached the age where your hair is greying and unequivocally in retreat, where people react to the sight of you in revealing swimming attire much as they would to seeing a public marriage proposal being declined, yet you have a Someone to go the beach with in matching-but-different towelling robes, Someone to look out at the endless sea with in quiet contemplation of the unfathomable scale of Things and your ever-diminishing role in them, Someone with whom to wonder what happened to all that stuff you once planned to get round to, Someone to wait patiently for you to meticulously tuck your hair into a see-through shower cap, before you take your regular constitutional swim together…

…well, then I would say that you were doing pretty OK.