In the aftermath of Christmas the harbour town is hushed with only the whisper of the sea echoing through its winding streets.

As the tide creeps in and the seagulls squawk, fishermen of the Cornish coastal town Looe, load their boats for the catch ahead. Lining the harbour side, their small fishing boats gently sway in the waters as the blushed morning sky fades to grey.

The stillness of the town begins to stir as the locals and tourists alike emerge from their brief hibernation. After all the festivities, huddling by the fire and lazy mornings the bitter cold winds reinvigorate lethargic bodies.

The crowds begin to draw in. The cobbled streets nestled between the house-lined cliffs start to bustle. Fisheries and bakeries open for business; their smells competing with the salty sea air.

Its shops and eateries are tightly compact with some hidden down curious alleyways. Sheltering from the winds, post Christmas dinner walkers and vacationing families navigate its narrow pathways.

Murmurs of crashing waves hints a way out from the meandering maze of dry-stoned buildings and out onto the sea front. For a mild December, the coastal winds are surprisingly crisp and pierce through to the skin. The seas are fierce too with waves striking the pier from all directions.

Ascending up the cliffs to the east of Looe, the sounds of the sea begin to silence to the roaring wind. Moody winter skies dull the aqua of the sea and tints the greenery grey.

A muddy climb to the summit promises uninterrupted panoramic views of the coast and St George’s Island. The pastel-hued houses on the other side of the harbour brighten the sombre winter’s day.

And as a slither of gold peeks from behind the island we say our farewells to the year gone by and embrace the months ahead.

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