Once, my father carried me into the surf. Now my arm steadies his steps back to the sea

Cottesloe beach, Western Australia. ‘He grips my forearm with his left hand as we take slow, baby steps until the water is lapping at our ankles,’ writes Tim Baker. Photograph: Alamy

It’s a delicate moment. My father’s a proud man. I don’t want to be condescending, so I tell him to let me know the level of help he needs. “I’ll take my cues from you,” I offer quietly. With a default formality I still find endearing, he tells me he’ll require assistance at two stages of the process: getting in and getting out.

I’ve travelled from my home in northern New South Wales to Perth to spend 10 days with my father, while his second wife, my stepmum, is in Melbourne visiting their two adult sons and new grandsons.