The sea, the sea …

摘要

If I swivel round 45 degrees from where I sit at my desk, the view never fails to impress me. In the foreground is a hundred yards of grass, bracken and gorse, leading down to a rocky shore. It borders a sheltered bay where in the summer skinflint sailors anchor, to avoid the official harbour dues levied on the other side of the island. Beyond lie the restless waters of St Mary's Sound, separating us by a mile from the low-lying duo of St Agnes and the Gugh, two inhabited islands linked by a sandbar at low and mid-tides. The only buildings I can see are a dozen houses clustered on the northern slopes of Agnes, presided over by her 17th century lighthouse. An architectural work of art, the rounded bulk of the lighthouse no longer supports a working light, but Trinity House maintain its white walls and gleaming glass. Beyond, and to the west of Agnes, I can discern a few of the deadly Western Rocks, the unquiet graveyard to so many sailing ships over the centuries and still a hazard to be feared.