It was the most perfect of Saturdays as man, dog and toddler descended upon that empty Cornish beach at an hour so early that even the intense July sun’s rays had hardly dried the sand. The dog went mad with excitement as she went in and out of the waves, never winning but trying so hard to catch them. The toddler went mad with sticks and stones and shells and piles of sand and cold, cold English sea-water in a bucket. And dad: a sleepless night was fading. Who wouldn’t want to be where he was now? Life was good.