Before me the lights of Bournemouth and Poole twinkled invitingly in the gathering dusk. Far below, the town’s two piers looked cheerful and dashing, and far out at sea the lights of passing ships bobbed and blinked in the dusky light. The world, or at least this little corner of it, seemed a good and peaceful place, and I was immensely glad to be there. Throughout this trip, I would have moments of quiet panic at the thought of ever leaving this snug and homey little isle. It was a melancholy business really, this trip of mine – a bit like wandering through a much-loved home for a last time.
