Christmas last year featured deep snow and frozen fields but Portstewart today was unusually mild.
We had coffee on "the prom" and watched the sea shift through a galaxy of greys and greens.
Another wonder has illuminated the Christmas season and made me an uncle.
It's a time of change for everyone but the seafront's almost unaltered since I waddled along it with my grandmother three decades ago.
The Atlantic air guarantees you a good night's sleep and the horizon stills your soul. This is why I miss the cragged concrete and the lonely huts of a cherished dimple of a town on the north face of Ireland.
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