Along the coastal path, away from Irsha Street and towards the sea, is an empty weatherboard house with a weather vane.
Airy and bright - the view from inside must be breathtaking whether sheltering from the sun or a buffeting storm. Just perfect for an easel, a telescope, a comfy chair and a pile of books.
The ceiling is caving in and the weatherboards have rotted in places exposing its shell. Yet, when you peer over the hedge, the lawn has been perfectly mown.
If those weatherboards could talk, I hope they would speak of family holidays, afternoon tea, games and gaiety. Of chiffon and straw hats, fishing nets and buckets, Famous Five and jam sandwiches.
Wouldn't it be wonderful to restore it to its former glory? To add to its history with our own family stories. I love how holidays allow us to dream and imagine a life seldom afforded - an apartment in Paris, a farmhouse in Provence or a dilapidated summer house on the Taw Torridge estuary.