Downderry

Downderry is a village that decided the sea was the point and everything else was optional. It hangs off a lane above the water twelve miles from Plymouth, close enough that people talk about the city like it is a weekend away rather than a commute, far enough that nobody actually does it twice. What arrives here is a certain kind of buyer, the sort who has run the numbers on a life with a view and quietly accepted that the trade involves the coast doing whatever the coast wants. The people who last are the ones who stopped fighting that in year one.