BELOVED

Forever.

Parts of Kernow have been rubbed smooth and characterless by the many millions of 'relocation' pound notes that were used to transform Cornwall into a handy suburb-by-the-sea for wealthy urbanites. But there remains a place that despite the braying crowds of incomers is still resolutely itself; quite scruffy, a bit rough around the edges and often just a few inches away from anarchy.

It's a place of high unemployment matched by equally high self-regard. A place where three generations from local families still live. A place that knows its own place, in fact.

A small village in a coastal valley where a handful of simple beachside flats - built over forty years ago - are still to this day occupied by low wage-earners and those on benefits. Not pretty buildings by any means, but they're certainly not the generic, unimaginative, over-developed, over-priced 'lifestyle' apartments that have appeared in almost every other coastal town.

Circa 1955.

Unlike so many other similar spots up and down the coast that have become empty places, occupied only occasionally by owners that live many miles away. This understated little settlement has quietly carried on being home to its inhabitants.

It also happens to have been blessed with a beach that consistently manages to produce some of the best beachbreak waves around. But beware, the best of those sweet, steep waves will not be freely available, for they will nearly always be ridden by the best surfers - those who happen to live within striking distance - and they will be on it every time there's a hint of swell.

But it's a special place to me for all the above reasons and more, and I fucking love it.