The sky is God’s canvas. There is something magical, something breath-taking, about Devon sunsets. The cloud shows are intricate artworks by themselves, but then when the pink light of a late sun hits them, it is as if the air becomes shaped concrete – expertly placed by some maestro with impossible skill. Myself and bubbles went for our evening stroll, next to the sea, and through the cobbled roads of the old Barbican, circling back through Royal Parade. Close to our house, in our very street, we saw this scene – painted – it seemed – for us.