We're on a short, shallow, pebbled beach under sunny conditions casting the stones in a warm glow. The sky above is patchy sheets of thin cloud with blue smeared through it. We're looking out to sea which is calm and flat to the horizon where a thin strip of distant land covers the width of the view. Foam from a lapping wave at the water's edge is barely more than a frothy fringe. A low but long pier juts out a hundred or more metres from the left. It's narrow, only designed for people to walk along, not sporting any facilities, and long enough to reach the deeper water where some vessels can dock at its end. There is a vintage ocean-going paddle steamer at the end of the pier, facing left and with half its rear sticking out from the pier and in view of us. It's a low-lying vessel with a hull of black and white and it has two, distinctive, cylindrical funnels, both tilted back slightly, both mostly red but with a thick band of white then black at the tops.