n an island, close to the mainland, was a village called Hope. Over the years, the prosperity of its inhabitants had ebbed and flowed like the mighty Atlantic Ocean, which incessantly crashed at its steep shoreline.
Not having easy access to the sea, the options of becoming fishermen or smugglers were never practical and other ways of earning a living had never been easy. However, these close-knit, doughty people had grown accustomed to weathering the financial storms by leading a frugal but happy life. With only one access road, via a narrow bridge, they were in a ‘cul-de-sac of Time’ and with the stresses of modern-day living, ‘them outsiders’, as they were called by the islanders, were beginning to search for remote places, such as Hope, to relax in.
Slowly at first but then rapidly, bed-and-breakfast accommodation became a handy source of income. At first to supplement but soon after to take over from the centuries-old toil of vegetable growing. With this new prosperity burning a hole in their pockets, many of the villagers decided to expand by pooling their wealth. Very soon small weekend-dwellings started to sprout up in the vegetable fields. Success bred success and the villagers thrived.