One of the small towns - it's barely a village -

on the Suffolk Coast is Walberswick, within

hailing distance of posh Southwold and, like

much of rural Suffolk, reluctantly finding itself

in the 21st century when its 'feel' is more like

that of the 19th. Walberswick is a bit like a

ghost town for much of the year, but bursts

into life with the first sunny weekend when the

un-made-up car park may have upwards of

twenty cars in it. A mile of sand and shingle

beach, two decent pubs, a ruined church and

some desirable properties, mostly owned by

out-of-towners, and that's Walberswick.

Down the coast are the windswept acres of

Shingle Street, and Minsmere Nature Reserve is nearby. Nearer still are a handful of old

fisherman's huts and the sort of creative detritus that usually surrounds them - nets, old

tyres, old boats, old fishermen, engine parts, the smell of the sea, the lure of chips. It's a

favourite spot in any weather, but on this occasion I knew when I took this shot exactly

which sky from my collection would improve the drama of the scene. The huts were

perfectly positioned - especially number 4 here - to take advantage of the direction of

light from the break in the clouds.