For the first time in 2005, we’ve been to the beach. And not just any old beach, Crantock beach in Cornwall, the place where my beloved Toby’s ashes are scattered.

We are avoiding the moors at the moment – I’m very conscious that all of the ewes we see while we walk are probably in the last stages of pregnancy and there may even be a few lambs around. I’m worried that Arch may spot one and give chase. Not that he’s allowed to chase sheep under any circumstances and we have found that he can be trusted with them around more than I’d anticipated. We have seen him standing on the path watching sheep a few feet away and making no move towards them, which has been a huge relief. Anyway, it means I’m uncomfortable in ‘sheep territory’ for a bit.

So, this morning’s weather forecast was good, we’re here and I’ve got a day off so we went to Crantock, via the Smugglers’ Den – a wonderful thatched roof pub in a small village called Cubert, a stone’s throw from Crantock. We had a delicious lunch and then spent a couple of hours on the beach where I could have a little chat with Tobes. Rosie romped around oblivious of all except Archie who romped around oblivious of all except the seagulls and rooks that were picking spoils off the beach. Arch gives chase to them and Rosie gives chase to Arch and apart from a ‘comedy moment’ when DM was in the chase too (shame the pics have motion blur on them), they entertained themselves while we walked the traditional walk along the shoreline to the furthest dry point on the beach. The tide was in so that was at the steps to the Bowgie for anyone who knows the beach there.

There had obviously been a big storm because there was a huge amount of flotsam and jetsam on the beach, including lots of fishing apparel, cuttle fish, timber, dead gulls and general rubbish. I have chosen this seaweed clinging to a fragment of slate as my shot of the day because I thought it looked rather sad as it clings hopelessly to the broken stone.

In amongst the golden sand here is what’s left of the body of Toby, cremated six years ago and scattered here. I like to think his joyous, happy spirit knows when I’m around. Sometimes, even now, I’d give anything to come home one day and be greeted by him. Just the once. Just to see and feel his crazy dance of love one more time. I still miss him terribly. Crantock is a perfect place. I can’t imagine anywhere better for him to be, in among the wind and waves. We all love being there – DM, Rosie and Archie too but for me it’s really special. It’s the place where I keep the memory alive of my beloved companion, who shared my hopes, dreams and traumas for thirteen years, never questioning my judgement, never in a bad mood and always loving me more than anyone else. What more could a person ask for?

No matter how much time has passed, he’ll never be forgotten.

Last year I posted my very first self-portrait.