Beach combing isn't what it used to be, this salvage of plastics spades and rakes, little castles and moulds, a minion, a fake fish, an endearing wheel, tea-cup, two pegs, a play time oto-scope, a float, foam cricket ball, one airplane, and a lone barnacle to represent the natural world, a decent trove, that must be balanced with the bags and bags, hand-fulls, milk-crates, weird parcels of wretched plastic trash that were picked up along the beach, to save them getting washed back into the harbour with the night's high tide. To misquote Wilde, we are all of us in the gutter. We need to lift our game.
