Noup Head lighthouse isn’t visible until we’re almost on top of it. There’s dew on the grass and on the purple flowers of the thistles.
Looking over the cliffs the birds appear like shadowy angels, coalescing into the air, their forms solidifying before us. A Gannet appears with a beak full of seaweed. Shortly it’ll make a messy attempt at a fresh nest and squabble with its neighbours.
We hear the waves break through the grey below. It’s a wild and a wonderful day.