But it was summer and the sunbathing gulls that bedecked the stone on the shore side leapt into the air in a "how dare you!" fashion as we made our way along to the lighthouse. I noticed that one of our party had hurried forward and was clambering up some astonishingly high steps to a shiny blue door. From his oilskins, he drew out a bunch of keys. It had not even occurred to me that would be actually allowed to heave our patient way up the spiral stairs to where the message of security spoke. My knees began to say no and my heart to dare yes as I made my way upwards, for the moment past all the rooms of history, to the shelved walkway that spread around the top of the tower. I stuck my head out of a tiny doorway and saw the metal trellised floor I was supposed to walk on. Mr. Vertigo went for a brief stroll as I gasped at the sheer grace of the limestone that both enhanced and defied the sea.

Maybe one day you will walk the wall and find that being there is what matters.