Passing The Eight Kings pub. A sign outside states new reduced opening hours (‘It’s not viable…’). The thin end of the wedge (literally and metaphorically). A tail end of the count(r)y where the lunar landscape bears witness to a former heyday in stone. Monoliths now fashioned into the fabric as wayfinding posts and vehicle barriers. The chip shops and pubs competing for an out of season trade until the annual influx from the mainland.