It's been one year since I graduated, and I never thought I'd be saying that from a tiny Cornish village. Thousands of twinkly-eyed students will be graduating up and down the country now – and I bet almost all of them have their sights set on a city. I know I did.
When I graduated I assumed I'd find a job in an exciting city, with an exciting life to go with it. Instead, I'm quite literally stuck in a Cornish village with pensioners and dogs.
This weekend, the village is covered in bunting, and today it's the St Day festival (I won’t bother to elaborate, as I’m sure you’ve heard of it). This couldn't be farther from what I thought life would be like now, or how it's ever been before. Prior to moving here, I'd only ever lived in the North of England. I didn't think that the North/South divide was really anything. Now I realise, the only divide I've experienced (despite the odd "you just sounded really Northern then” comment), is in my head.
Whenever I see a Cornish beach, I can't believe people are actually exercising. Seeing people surfing makes me feel a million miles away from my home town. In South Shields, people eat ice cream, complain about the cold, and shout at dog shit on the floor. God, I miss the North.
I have to admit, however, I am coming around to my little Cornish Village a little. With its cute little houses and even cuter elderly people walking their dogs, it could be worse. A few days ago, I was walking through the village when I suddenly went really dizzy and fell over. A neighbour drove me home and thanked me for trusting him to do so. Back at home in Doncaster, I'd have gotten a few eye rolls and the assumption that I was on drugs (albeit, this would be a fair assumption in Doncaster).
Everyone knows everyone here, and whenever I go to the corner shop I can't help but smile at the cosy conversations and over-familiarity. Everyone knows everyone's business. And there's always little homemade posters advertising coffee mornings in windows. I didn't think that this sort of village existed anywhere outside of Coronation Street until I came here.
I may not feel like I belong – and I don't really want to - but I'm on the perimeter of something special. It isn't the most exciting graduate life, but it's not the worst, either. I want to get out of here but I know I'll miss it when I do - who knows if such close-knit villages will still exist when I retire?