One could walk for many miles, starting from Lytham. Today you need to dodge the spindrift’s, for it’s a blustery morning, I start slowly passing the windmill, my eyes are downcast as I scan the ground for treasure. There have been many dubious findings when each morning I set out for my walk. Yesterday the colour of gold would caught my eye, as a spy’d a sovereign mounted in fat gold ring, resting like a lord on the pavement. As if it was not enough that I collect the treasures that the sea delivers each day, now the lords and ladies leave offerings for me.