Swanage. My one true love and my first taste of paradise. There you sat, all jaunty and all unassuming at the bottom of the world where the land meets the sea, meets the sky. You had sand, not the tropical kind, but rugged, misshapen sand which blew across the road in the wind and formed perfect peaks of salty, stony mess.
You weren’t tropical, you weren’t especially warm and you weren’t everyone’s cup of tea.
But you were mine, and you were beautiful.