He doesn’t much like going that way, and to be honest I don’t like it much either. It is depressing walking along the backs of the hotels and guest houses and then behind Alexandra Hall, a gothic monster with its dark, wrought iron fire escapes. It smells of bins, rubbish is invariably scattered on the road and it is bleak. But, and herein lies the point, when you get to the top of the hill you have this ‘take-your-breath-away’ view of the sea and bay that cancels out any of the gloom of the previous vista. It is marvellous, and even more so on a morning like today’s where the sea is lashing and swirling and the sky is a steel blue. I love it. I love its wildness, the cragginess of the headland and the power of the water, eschewing all attempts at scenic twee-ness. Give me wild any day. And the sun, naturally.
