Here's part of his narration:
ON clear blue mornings, before everyone is up, when the sea is calm as a mill pond and clouds hang on the horizon like distant misty mountains, there is nowhere quite like Felixstowe.Yes, it is never dull and it is a constant joy. But just never, ever, let your guard down. High tides, sudden storm, and nearshore freaque waves are always simmering out there. By all means wear a life vest all the time while you are out there just in case.
There is a cool crispness in the air, and the only sounds are the scrunch of your footsteps on the shingle, and the gentle lapping of the waves, pulling at the pebbles, and the mewing of hungry gulls whirling overhead.In one direction there are ships at anchor, lurking like huge beasts waiting to berth at the port.
In the other the fine century-old promenade stretching two miles, with views across to hazy Walton-on-the-Naze and the monster cranes of the port standing guard over the harbour and town.
Living by the sea is a constant joy.
Many people in the town say they hardly ever see the sea - looking to Ipswich for their jobs and leisure, perhaps visiting the beach or market on a sunny Sunday.
But I have to see the sea every day.
It's constantly changing: moods, colours, waves. From the calm, warm blue of a summer's day to the drama of a dirty brown or steely grey winter sea as it pounds the shores, huge concrete-breaking waves smashing against the prom, shooting spray into the air, it is never dull.