The drive down to Newquay took longer than was reasonable, but the stops at Stonehenge, and at pretty coastal villages for mugs of tea, were reminiscent of a dozen family holidays, bickering in the back seat with my siblings but fondly remembered.

We arrived at our Porth campsite just as the sky clouded over and the heavens opened, and sat steaming in the damp tent contemplating the long walk into town. Next time, we’d go for a surf lodge right in the thick of things.

We traipsed along the windy clifftops above Newquay’s northern beaches; each one a golden yellow and dotted with wetsuited surfers, oblivious to the unseasonal weather. Parking lots were filled with battered beetles and multicoloured VW campers with tie-dyed curtains, as well as the English seaside staple of a chip van punting polystyrene coffee.

We passed a couple of sad-looking hotels (‘Bingo Tuesdays – OAP fish special!’) and walked onto the set of a teen soap opera. Newquay was full of blonde-dreadlocked, Quiksilver-wearing, posh-accented kids who probably should have been in school. The Boyfriend ran straight into the nearest O’Neill shop and bought a cooler hoody.

We booked into a surf school for the next day, and got on with Newquay’s second-biggest leisure activity: drinking discount beer and eating nachos grande.

Our surf lesson was fantastic, in a large-ish group with three cute antipodean instructors. We felt ridiculous on the beach, ‘paddling’ on our bellies in the sand, but they had armed us well for our first ffffreezing fffforay into the Atlantic. Within an hour, about the time my lips turned blue, I was on my feet and feeling pretty cool on my giant banana-like training board. We congratulated ourselves with a pint of Cornish scrumpy.

On our final day, we packed up our tent at quiet Porth beach, enjoyed a last greasy fry-up in town, and headed out via the Eden Project. The biomes are beautiful and fascinating, if a little overrun with bored children, and I strongly recommend the detour it inevitably takes to reach the place.

We had had a ton of fun in Newquay, felt confident on a surfboard, and soaked up the rugged west coast scenery. It’s young, studenty and not for everyone, but at least once in your life, you should stand in the pounding Atlantic surf with a huge grin on your blue lips, anticipating a hot bag of chips.