There's a particular stretch of coast I've walked half a dozen times over the years, always meaning to properly describe it, and somehow never quite managing to. This time I took the camera.

The light was doing what it does at that time of year — long and golden and slightly unreal. The kind of light that makes an ordinary place look like it's been painted.

I had an hour to fill between appointments last week and nowhere in particular to be, so I just sat on a bench and watched. It's remarkable what you see when you're not trying to get anywhere.

Three separate people walked past talking to themselves. One was on a phone, one was rehearsing something, and one — I have absolutely no idea. A dog towed its owner into a puddle with complete confidence that this was the correct thing to do. A small child stopped dead in the middle of the footpath and stared at a crack in the pavement for a solid two minutes while her mother waited with heroic patience.

None of this means anything. But it was a good hour.