It is most unlike us to visit Cornwall in the school Summer holidays. But here we are waking up in an orchard where peace reigns and our evening walk along a picturesque estuary with boat yards and boat skeletons resting up in the mud, gave us complete isolation. We could hear other humans and their dogs having tinkling, brittle holiday conversations in their million pound holiday homes.And the pervasive beat of party music on a Saturday night from houses rented by groups of young friends anxious to be as cool and interesting as they thought they were at 18. Anxious to still be friends despite the tribulations of negotiating the adult world since leaving university.

None of this touches us in the Orchard. Birdsong and squirrel movement are the only sounds that are interrupted when an apple falls from a tree.

Apart from our own invasive sounds of a whistling kettle.

And the spit of bacon in a frying pan

And the quiet tap of fingers writing a morning’s blog.