Saturday 4th August 2001 – 6.07am
Almost indecently early, but there is still life out here. The Channel is low and still with almost no wind to bother it – maybe just the slightest trickle from the South. There is a yellow yacht towing a matching tender; out already or back from somewhere and heading slowly up the Channel to North Scale, coming under the bridge and expertly following the path of the depth, and as I write, coming to its berth at the edge of what is left of the water.