Last week was my birthday. I’m not one to shout about the occasion but this year felt different and special – not only because it was my first birthday officially living in Cornwall but also because it is the last time I age past 27.

I don’t mean this to sound like some morbid prophecy and my feeble childhood attempt at playing the clarinet will probably bar me from ever joining the Forever 27 Club. My reasoning is far more superficial and shallow and is purely based on the fact that I am scared of getting older and so, as of next year, shall forever turn 27 each time the candles are dragged out. (Oh yes, I’m not giving up the perks that come with the birthday. The gifts, the cake – oh no, I’ll keep those. I’m just losing the age part.)

23 was a brilliant age, still fresh from Uni it felt like all of my irresponsibility could be placed at the door of my youth. Now, banging on the door of number 27, people ask me questions on my future direction, and savings! And the 23-year-old inside of me is left thinking – ‘What the hell has happened here?’

So this year, toes officially on the edge of the slippery slope to dirty thirty, I decided to celebrate by harking back to childhood birthday’s on the Cornish beaches with my family.

Loaded up with my new GoPro, we spent the Saturday at Porthcurno in the blinding sun of an uncharacteristically British August. Even now, as I sit writing this at my desk, my nose is radiating the heat of a thousand suns and resembles something of a snake mid skin-shift.

I tan gif

Aside from now functioning at a temperature closer to the boiling point of mercury, the day was a happy return to family times gone by – of wetsuits and water, of ice cream and pasties. I’ve shared a few of the snaps below.

Bubbles 1lp

Eve running lp

Porthcurno Saturday 11 lp

Porthcurno Saturday 14 lp

Porthcurno Saturday 13 lp


Cornish Pasty Birthday Cake

I feel a special mention should be given to the birthday cake(s):



Made by the Woolway family clan, not only was it a beautiful marriage of design and sugar, it also provided the solution to the question of where my sisters and I get our love for the Cornish pasty from. In the design process for this year’s diabetes-showdown, a Google search for ‘Cornish Pasty Cake’ returned a picture of a young Papa-Woolway poised with a Pasty cake.



Yes, that is icing sugar pickle, yes he is the reason why I have shares in hair straighteners and yes, he is currently ranking fourth for the search ‘Cornish Pasty Cake’. The SEO aware among us will appreciate this search-ranking feat and it just goes to show that that the apple never falls far from the tree.


Or in this case, that the Pasty never strays far from the Woolway genetic pool.


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