When I find hidden gems, I destroy them
Three people may keep a secret if two of them are dead, said Benjamin Franklin.
The sickening truth about travel writers is that they reveal secret locations in exchange for a free trip. It’s a Faustian pact and I must admit I bear some guilt in this respect.
I once wrote about self-rewilding Covehithe near Southwold, our fastest-eroding piece of coastline, painted by John Sell Cotman and England’s answer to the Namibian Skeleton Coast. The ghostly emptiness was its main
