Where I live in the south of Cornwall, wrecking is not only still part of the vernacular, it is also part of daily life. I find working in my garden a lot easier since “rescuing†a cask-shaped fish box last winter from the beach. Each evening the cargo of a Russian timber ship crackles happily in my grate. The day after a recent storm, I bumped into a friend dragging an old iron mooring buoy along the shingle; a week later the buoy was sitting in his antique-shop window with a £75 price tag on it. for more click on the introduction
