This month our columnist MARTIN DOREY makes an attempt at answering the question they all ask: where do Cornish people go for their holidays?

Visitors to Bude often ask me where people from Bude go for their holidays. It’s a good question. I live in a holiday resort so, in theory, every day must be like a holiday.

Well, yes and no. Some days, when I do nothing but go into the office and then home again, I feel as if I could be living anywhere. Then again, when I can meet up with Lizzy for a sundowner at the Crooklets Beach Cafe, it’s like being on permanent vacation.

Even so, it is nice to get away once in a while. Even for coastal dwellers, wanderlust is strong.

Where do we go? People who work in hospitality or who own holiday businesses tend to take their holidays in the winter (they have no choice), which means there is always someone just back from or just off to Bali, Morocco, Thailand or somewhere equally fabulous.

I love it here in Cornwall in the summer and want to enjoy it as much as I can while it’s good, but it does present me with a dilemma come winter: I just don’t want to get on a plane. I don’t want to sound sanctimonious but I decided a while ago that I couldn’t be an environmentalist and continue flying. It just didn’t add up.

Read the latest Martin Dorey column here.

The last time I flew long haul, seven years ago, on a surf trip to the Maldives, I endured 13 hours of jammed-in misery that made me feel crumpled and dirty, like I’d spent a day sitting in a child’s car seat beneath the exhaust of a tumble dryer with someone shouting at me. It was a terrible, soulless experience. On top of that lingered the thought that I might be helping to tip the Maldives a little further into the sea just by going.

From time to time though, I wonder if I am an idiot for not flying, especially when I see exotic posts on Instagram. Looking at people dripping with smugness on sun-drenched beaches, my jealousy makes me ask what difference would it make if I hopped on a flight to Barcelona? Could I live with the guilt?

I wish trains were cheaper. I’d be on Eurostar faster than The Flying Scotsman on a tea break if I could travel to Spain for the same price as a ticket to Malaga. But sadly it’s a matter of simple economics. And that helps me to appreciate coastal living all the more. When I clock off at the end of the working day I can kick off my shoes and wander down to the beach. Now that May is upon us, let’s hope it’s a good, Cornish summer.

So the answer? Unless I get on my bike, I guess I’ll be taking my holidays at home this year.