A story on small, sad, scared summer selves - We visited a tiny piece of heaven in Cornwall. Kynance Cove.

The first words we hear in the car park are High Tide, so no swimming, so in the back of the hot car I change out of my now pointless bikini. Flustered, I squeeze into practical leggings.

When destructive events happen, we are quick to point the finger. Who is responsible for this mess? How did this happen? Who is to blame?⁠⁠A poor workman blames his tool but it isn't the tool; the tool is neutral; it’s the hands and the mind that control them.