On the journey home from Cornwall a few weeks ago, I was determined to be positive and happily reflect on an amazing holiday.
By the time we reached Devon my resolve vanished. We stopped for coffee at the services and whilst standing in the queue, the floodgates opened. I couldn’t speak for the lump in my throat and the usually enticing cake display blurred behind a sea of tears.
I probably sound like an ungrateful child who cries at the end of the party because they don’t want to go home. But those who love surfing and being by the coast, especially the ones inland will understand how gut wrenching it is to leave it all behind. To return to landlockedsville when you don’t know when the next surf will be is like being a fish plucked out of water.
It was the last straw and the final push I needed. I didn’t want to leave it all behind again.