I came across the East Neuk almost by accident, while searching for somewhere to stay near St Andrews as my daughter began university. Over the years, the long road from Kent to Fife became one of the routes of our family life: dropping her off, collecting her, returning with bags and books and coats, and now coming back for her graduation.

First we stayed in St Monans, then Pittenweem, and this week Elie. Each village seemed more beautiful than the last: harbours, stone houses, narrow streets, sudden views of the sea, bays and coves held in the changing Scottish light.

But places of such beauty are never simple. These villages were shaped by fishing, trade, travel, decline, tourism and return. The East Neuk has been a place of seasonal inhabitation for well over a century. Its beaches, golf, harbours, rail and steamer connections, and proximity to Edinburgh always made it attractive to visitors. What has changed is the balance. A historic pattern of summer visitors and occasional second homes has become, in some places, a more complex mixture of inherited houses, holiday lets, investment, retirement, family attachment and platform tourism.

In Elie, where we stayed this week, it has been estimated that around 45 per cent of houses are second homes. That is a striking figure. However much these houses are taxed, occupied in summer, cared for, loved or rented, they raise a difficult question about the life of the village through the whole year. A house can contribute money and still not send a child to the local school. It can be beautifully maintained and still be dark in February. It can be loved by outsiders and still leave the permanent community stretched thin.

The answer cannot simply be hostility to visitors. We were visitors ourselves, and grateful ones. There will be many more generations of parents making the same journey to St Andrews, discovering these villages as we did, and feeling the same shock of affection for this coast.

The task, surely, is to manage this new reincarnation carefully: to reap the benefits of tourism and seasonal life without unweaving the fabric of local communities until they become loose strands. These places need visitors, but they also need residents. They need admiration, but also schools, shops, workers, neighbours and winter life.

Tomorrow we go back to St Andrews for my daughter’s graduation, the final journey of this chapter. The East Neuk has been one of the unexpected pleasures of these university years: the beauty of the Scottish coast, and the warmth and humour of the Scottish people. I leave admiring it deeply, but also wondering how places so loved can remain places fully lived in.