So,

So,
where are you from?”

After hours spent on Tinder, Bumble or whatever the new one is
called, I’ll have been asked this question more times than I can
count on my two hands. I could reply with an unoriginal, cliché
“home is where I rest my feet” but… just no. For me, home is St
Ives, right down at the very bottom of the Cornish peninsula. I’m
always proud to mention it, perhaps a little too much after being
met with a sigh and an eye roll when I tell someone for the fifth
or so time. But what’s not to love? It was the birthplace of my
parents and where I was raised.

Yet it wasn’t love at first sight. Of course I enjoyed being
brought up there, but I never thought that I was special – it was
just home, after all. As a child I would witness the thousands that
flock down in the summer holidays, spade and bucket in hand,
slapping on their SPF 50, and fighting for their square inch of
beach. I couldn’t understand: sure Cornwall has the soft sand
beaches, Mediterranean lookalike waters and dramatic landscapes,
but doesn’t everywhere by the coast? Turns out I was wrong once
again.

I didn’t fully become romanced by
Cornwall until I left to study in Bournemouth. I thought this
coastal town would be the same… but how wrong was I? Homesickness
grew and I soon found myself rushing back to the Cornish coastal
paths, trying to take as much in with my new-found love of
photography. The sickness only grew stronger as I ventured up to
London for work. Today I sit in the city smog and can only admire
travel photography submitted from around the world. Yet I dream of
the days when I get to see those rugged cliffs, squalling seagulls
and lapping waves again. Now that’s a true romance story.

@roam02