This is nothing new. Photographers have been drawn to beach for decades, drawn by the propensity for the British tourist to leave their inhibitions at home. Walk along any seaside resort and you’ll find ‘Mr Nine to Five’ has ditched the suit in favour of some uncharacteristically flamboyant floral shorts and a pair of oversized flip-flops. The squares and even the stoic will find themselves regressing into a behaviour they’ve come to recognise in family photographs and fading memories. T-shirts off, worries aside, money becomes no object. The sea acts as a meditative therapy, in the same way gazing into an open fire allows us to completely empty our minds of all the troubles and worries that otherwise consume us. Amongst all the long queues, screaming children, and sand-filled shoes there is a peace. A small window of opportunity for reflection and relaxation. It’s a harmony that reminds us that it’s good to feel human again – even if it is only for a week on Barry Island. And if we end up making fools of ourselves, so be it. We’ll accept those fools gladly.