It’s a long time since I walked out of the house in a bad mood – so long I can’t remember – but I was over-tired and fed-up. I needed to go out and get some air. I took a look behind me, to see if Chris had followed but he hadn’t so I turned off on the little path that leads down to the sea wall. In case you’re wondering I left Chris at home to watch his Formula One race in peace (I haven’t been following my hero Fernando Alonso recently).

It wasn’t exactly dark when I set out but night was falling quickly. I tested the night setting on my mobile camera and before long I realised it was quite dark, and there are no lights along the sea wall… except, of course, for the lights in the windows and the torches of the fishermen.

I wasn’t alarmed by Steve and Phil, the nice fishermen from Exeter. You can tell when people are normal, can’t you? They must have thought me a bit strange though – walking along the sea wall in the dark – but they didn’t show their surprise and chatted to me as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. They showed me photographs of the fish they caught the night before and even let me take photos of them. Looking at the photos now, I think they must be twins or at least brothers; I couldn’t really see them properly in the dark. Steve shone the torch to light the way for me as I headed towards the Rockstone Bridge (where I was going to leave the wall) but the light went off before I reached there – he understood that I could see alright and, more importantly, that I might feel like I was being surveyed. Nice chaps! I always get on well with fisher-folk – I enjoy a spot of fishing myself, especially in Australia, and more especially on a boat!

Funnily enough, I met another fisherman coming down to the bridge just as I was walking up from it.

“Another fisherman,” I said as we passed, “there are two others on the sea wall.”

“Have they caught anything?” he asked, pleased.

“Well, they caught a lot last night,” I answered.

“What did they catch?” he was thrilled (I must look like a woman who would know about fishing matters).

“Oh, a couple of rays, a couple of dogfish and some others – I think one was a flounder,” I said like a woman in the know.

He thanked me profusely and wished me an excellent evening before rushing on down to the wall. Nice fellow – fishermen tend to be good men.

Ten minutes later I walked through our door and Chris greeted me.

“I was worried,” he said, “I was looking for you everywhere – down at Coryton Cove and down the town.”

“Oh sorry, I went along the seawall past our house,” I said nonchalantly.

But inside I was pleased that Chris had cared enough to go looking for me. In truth, I had been in a bit of a mood.

Do you know what? I felt so much better for my little night-walk.