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Everything is hidden in plain sight.

When I was young we would be taken on day-trips to the seaside. Honking great seagulls, sticky candy floss, game machine parlours beating out music, giddy boat trips around the lighthouse, 99 Flakes of rippled chocolate embedded in soft ice-cream—all surrounded by the dark threat of rain clouds approaching from the horizon.

And there on the sand, an enterprising operator had set up a treasure hunt for children. A grid of squares marked out on the sand by lengths of string. You paid a fee, were given a small spade, and told which grid-position you could dig down in. Hidden under the surface of the sand would be a little buried wooden box; and when you dug and uncovered the box there would be a piece of rolled-up paper inside; and marked on the paper would be the name of the prize you had won.

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