I don’t know how she got here or where she came from but there she is, seven feet tall and standing in the potato patch and now I can’t imagine the garden without her.

There’s a man in a hi-vis jacket the colour of lemon-rind with mother-of-pearl strips on the sleeves and he’s flapping his arms and shouting at the people gathered beside the sea-wall. They can’t hear him. The roaring wind and the waves pounding the breakwater are the only things anybody can hear.