I once accidentally ended up in the middle of a huge surf lifesaving competition on the North Coast – children everywhere were just voluntarily wearing numbers and doing running as a fun Saturday afternoon activity. It was very alien to me. I mean, I will occasionally wear a number and do a bit of running if necessary but that is one hundred per cent for bragging rights and a reason to eat giant burgers under the guise of ‘refuelling’. It has nothing to do with enjoyment. And if you had suggested it to me when I was under the age of twenty four I would probably have wept.… Read More The kids in Cornwall are super-sporty and it’s terrifying
Being new in town, though, and in need of Cornwall friends, I’ve definitely taken on more than I can keep up. Promise me, however vaguely, that it might be ‘a good way to meet people’ and I have always been there. It’s just that it’s a lot. I do tap dance on Mondays, yoga on Tuesdays, roller derby also on Tuesdays, choir on Wednesdays, paddleboarding any time of the week… I basically do more extra-curricular activities than some middle class five-year-olds whose parents already set their sights on them going to Cambridge.… Read More The joy of saying ‘no’
Have you ever seen a Christmas tree go up in flames? If not, I highly recommend it. In many ways it’s similar to the time at university when I accidentally leaned into a candle, in that there’s a bright flash of fire and a really loud fizzing sound. Of course, with the Christmas tree the… Read More Twelfth Night, or Let’s All Burn Christmas To The Ground
She blew down the trees,
And she carved up the beaches,
But I didn’t feel it
Because of my breeches.
Cocooning my legs
Like a black plastic shroud,
You protected my jeans
From the contents of clouds.… Read More An ode to my waterproof trousers
The Cornwall to London sleeper train is a great way to get about the country if you have to arrive up country (yes, I just said ‘up country’. I say that now.) early in the morning for reasons of business, travel, or a desire to maximise all free food opportunities available to you during a… Read More The Cornwall to London Sleeper train: A timeline (dignity not included)
Except it turns out the Merryneum also contains quite a lot of TV to catch up on and people to see, and things just don’t happen like you promised yourself they would when you get up at 11am everyday and have a nap at midday. So this year I’ve leaned into it. It’s physically impossible to achieve anything much in a house with a still-open Quality Street tin, so why put too much pressure on yourself?… Read More How to spend the Merryneum
I’ve caught myself looking back on 2017 a few times recently and thinking I don’t feel like I’ve achieved much. It’s normally when I’m on my way to work, because small midlife crises are exactly what Monday mornings are for. And then I realise that I’ve left my Cornwall flat to walk to my Cornwall office where I do the new job I didn’t have this time last year and then I realise that a couple of things might have changed after all.… Read More Let’s all pretend we care about each other’s resolutions for a minute
Let’s be honest, it’s Christmas and if it’s not Quality Street or two-day-old turkey that’s never been in the fridge who really cares? But it’s also the end of a year in which some things have happened that deserve a mention. Or they probably don’t but my brain is a Ferrero Rocher now.… Read More Things that happened to me this year that you don’t care about because why would you?
I’m heading back to Watford for Christmas because my life is an endless parade of glamour, so I’m currently packing. Which does, of course, mean I am doing anything I possibly can that does not involve packing, but there’s a suitcase in the corner of the room while I do it. An empty one, of course.
Which leads me seamlessly onto the undisputed best Christmas films ever according to me, an expert who does not need your input:… Read More The top 5 Christmas films of all time (do not @ me)
when I left the shop and walked away, I bumped (almost literally) into something like fifty santas in Falmouth high street. Their costumes ranged from the detailed to the actually-I’ll-just-wear-my-red-dressing-gown-because-that’ll-do, but they pretty much all carried drums. They’d stopped to sing a few verses of a Christmas carol, but they soon started drumming and marching up the high street.
I followed them because, well, they were Santas and I have Christmas in my heart and soul forever. … Read More The Saturday Falmouth went batshit