This morning, in Kent, the sky was grey but there was no wind; the air was warm, and a fine rain had just stopped. At 8am, the tide was turning. On my way to the beach I met a fox walking up the lane and a fellow swimmer heading home for breakfast. I walked to the water’s edge over shingle and oyster shells, sea pinks and wild spinach. I could not imagine anything more perfect: the water was like silk, all I had for company were a couple of floating seagulls. For twenty minutes everything was luxuriously peaceful.