Low Tide Observations

St Ives, mid-morning. The tide has gone out and taken any sense of urgency with it.

A few small boats rest awkwardly on the harbour floor like pensioners dozing off in armchairs, half-listening to the radio. A dog walker zigzags across the sand. The dog has purpose. The walker less so.

In the middle, a man reverses a trailer toward a boat. It takes three attempts. His partner gestures helpfully, which is to say vaguely. You get the feeling they’ve had this same argument every summer since 1983.

There’s a pub overlooking it all. Closed now. But you can imagine the lunchtime crowd later, chewing chips and offering unsolicited nautical advice to no one in particular.

It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need to do anything. It just is. Quiet, soft-spoken, like it’s been left on the windowsill of time to cool.