Trevelyan. 41. Circus coach.
‘Trevelyan’ is ‘a homestead forever’, and ‘Trevathan’ is ‘him from the homestead’. My mum had the humour to marry a Cornishman and I was born just after the lifeboat went down, so I’m named after the coxswain of the boat. [In 1981, the crew of the Penlee lifeboat Solomon Browne died attempting to rescue those onboard a vessel stuck at sea.] With a name like mine you can’t help but internationally identify as Cornish. I’m really aware of the history of the landscape and the people who surround me. I would say it’s more of a personal thing that I’ve really indulged in learning the history, just because I’m interested. It is non-existent in the education system, any Cornish language or any Cornish history.
I grew up down in West Penwith, near Penzance. I’d describe it as rural and maritime. Quite quaint and bougie really. It’s very picturesque but there’s not a lot of opportunities for individuals, like training and education and stuff like that. Although there’s a population, it isn’t massive. The infrastructure’s very small. There are just limited opportunities to do anything that is not in an industry that is backed in Cornwall like the tourist industry. You’ve got to struggle really hard for any opportunity you’re going to find in Cornwall. There’s not a great pool of people who have got a lot of money to employ [workers], even in the higher echelons of society. And again, those industries are usually tourist-based, so it’s not establishing year-round, continual opportunities. There’s no stability, and what stability there is you have to create. Good luck with that in an ever-changing world.
I grew up in a more deprived background, so I had to go off and work in something that was very low paid like kitchen work when I was 16. There’s limited opportunities in catering work, even – you know, you can become a chef, but that really wasn’t my bag. And jobs are temporary, they come and they go. I’ve done building site work as well and lots of little jobs. I actually technically trained as a horticulturalist to get gardening work. Lot’s of temporary, insecure work. It’s seasonal. Everything’s very seasonal in Cornwall.
I’d say my youth here was quite fun. There was a really vibrant music scene back when I was little in Penzance, a great party scene which doesn’t exist for the youths anymore. That went about 10 years ago probably? The entertainment scene became really hard, lots of popular venues closed. It was quite good, the social life was nice. Work was difficult so getting ahead, training, and being out there on my own while not having any parental support was really difficult when pushing for anything like higher education, et cetera…That wasn’t going to happen. And again, that would mean moving out-of-county. You become quite insular living in Cornwall as much as your whole scene, everything, revolves around a small area, a small population of people, and if you don’t break out of that you’re very much stuck in that environment and in that culture, and that can be limiting. I still find it very limiting. It’s refreshing to get out of the county and remind yourself there’s a whole world out there. Here there’s not a lot of land; it’s a small place. It’s like an island mentality, especially by the time you get down to West Penwith where everybody knows everybody.
I think it’s great here – you’re surrounded by loads of natural beauty and space and the environment. There’s loads of opportunities to get out and about. But our public transport’s really limited; I didn’t learn to drive until I was over 30, mainly because I didn’t have the money or the time or the support. Again, that’s those limited opportunities in Cornwall. Trying to get ahead, trying to pay rent, trying to do whatever… It makes things really difficult. My personal experience of that is that it really limited to me until I was in a long term relationship and had some stability. Even then, we were living on the road in a truck, but it gave me the spare money to learn to drive myself. It gave me the opportunity finally to be able to expand my horizons. As soon as you can drive, you can access better work or work in other areas.
It’s still really similar for young people who are from less favourable circumstances. In fact, it’s probably worse now than it was when I was little. At least the rents were affordable in certain areas, you know? You hadn’t had an influx of people to take up all the accommodation and push property prices up. That’s happened in the last 10 years, so I’m glad I had my youth when there was cheap housing and I could move to St Just and live there for nothing. There wouldn’t be those opportunities if I wanted to live that lifestyle now. I live in a van in order to be able to afford my lifestyle – I don’t have any bills or any overheads. It means I can be where I need to be when I need to be there.
What’s Cornish culture in my generation? Liberalism. It’s a really liberal place. I wouldn’t say that is a traditional thing in Cornwall but growing up in my generation, all the young people I know, everyone’s got really similar attitudes to partying and hanging out and, actually, towards careers and stuff, because there’s only so far you can push with any career here in Cornwall, so people are not as career-minded. You’re trading off your lifestyle against your opportunities, and that makes people slightly more liberal I would say – more accepting of other individuals and their lifestyles or what they’re doing. But I grew up in a really unique place at a unique time, and it was really good. Deprived and hard work for living, but culturally great.
All the change here is associated with the property price and the boutique, bougie culture that’s crept in. It’s very higher-middle-class restaurants, certain shades of green pastel or St Ives blue. You would think the only art ever produced in Cornwall was the most awful, hideous seascapes you’ve seen. It’s true though, right? How many art galleries does a rural village like St Just need? I think it’s running at about 6. I’ve seen those changes and property prices going up and I’ve seen people’s attitudes changing and I’ve seen chain stores creeping in. And the general homogenisation of culture – becoming more and more, like, up-country. You drive around London and you may as well drive around the outskirts of Cornish towns as well – they all look the same. It’s all the same brands, there’s no unique local provision. Local businesses have been squeezed out. And when I’m talking about businesses, I’m not talking about restaurants and cafes, I mean like actual shops you need for living. It’s a homogeny, it’s a cultural thing across the whole of the UK, Europe, the world.
I think Cornwall should wholeheartedly embrace what it’s best at, which is low-impact alternative culture. Our farming systems don’t support mass agriculture, our environment doesn’t support the pillaging of its maritime resources. Cornwall should invest in its sustainability and its creativity and the arts and what it’s actually good for, and what the local population culturally want as well. It’s why people stick around, for that liberal, rural, creative culture. It should be encouraged wholeheartedly; the councils and the schools should be backing that. Let’s see a circus school! Cornwall has the ability to compete on certain bases nationally, like our art colleges. That could be being supported more, industries could be being grown around that sort of thing. But you can’t just go to the council and go, “I’ve got a really good idea for your county!” Duchy College, when I went there to train in horticulture – it’s the perfect place, already has the infrastructure for developing low-impact agriculture and horticulture. Again, a potential facility that could be a nationwide facility, a hub. And again, another wasted opportunity. Developing agricultural and horticultural solutions for a low-impact environment in a very local-agency kind of way for developing local industry and jobs and wealth and providence. I see a constant failing of opportunities because of shortsightedness in Cornwall. A failure to invest in young people, the populations of people that are…I’m not going to say deprived, but they’re deprived of opportunities. Try starting a business in Cornwall without a lot of money behind you… There’s no-one there to guide you, to set you up, to go “hey, that’s a good idea”. And again, I’m sure that’s a global problem, but specifically down here it’s heightened. It’s hard.
My relationship with Cornwall has grown through acceptance breeding fondness, I think, and acceptance of being stuck here and now being networked here, and actually quite happy here. Now it is kind of Hobbiton. It’s a few years behind the rest of the world, but it’s the natural environment around me, and it’s a great place for my kid to grow up in. Before, I felt very trapped. And isolated. And limited by the location. It’s a great place to grow up, a great place to go away from, and probably a great place to come back to, but I stayed here the whole time. Never got to go. What’s made me happy here are friends, the culture – that accepting, laid-back culture. I don’t want to say surf culture because most of us aren’t surfers, it’s not surf culture, it’s Cornish culture, and it’s a mix of skaters and surfers and rockers and ravers and circus folk; artists and creatives. There’s a very creative vibe down here and I’m part of that, so that suits me very well.
I’d like people to be aware of the unique nature of Cornwall, its cultural identity and its presence of being. Cornwall’s independent identity and its population’s cultural spirit is not respected or acknowledged; unique policies towards housing, unique policies towards farming and fishing that would suit the environment aren’t forthcoming. But then, that’s a global problem. Cornwall is just not exempt to those pressures. Relating even to things like planning and opportunities for people to live low-impact rural lifestyles. For instance, lots of people who want to come down here and live in caravans and fields – and if you’re local, good luck again because the price has gone up to the point where you’re excluded from that – it’s not encouraged, or it’s actively discouraged because people are prosecuted for living low-impact lifestyles in Cornwall. Everyone wants to live a low-impact lifestyle – not everyone, not everyone wants to do that – but there’s no provision for that, there are no unique exemptions. I would like people to respect that when you do come across it, that it’s a unique place, it has a unique people and unique characteristics, and perhaps it just needs respecting for that. Not this pressure to change and be the same as the rest of the UK.
I’m an itinerant Cornishman, you ain’t getting rid of me. I’m just going to be bumming around Cornwall in my van for the rest of time, you know? Until there are some sort of planning changes in which case I could live on the land I actually own – that would be great. I’m not allowed to live on my land that I actually own because of planning permissions. I should be able to go to the council and say to someone, “Hi, I have this piece of land and I want to live on it,” and they should be able to go, “okay, great, cool, you’re going to need to follow this guideline, this guideline, this guideline, and it’s probably a good idea if you do this…” and everyone could be complying and getting on and having a great time. But no. I have a very rich neighbour who objects to anyone living low-impact on his doorstep, not that he can even see me – he’d have to go a mile down the lane and look over the hedge. Unfortunately I bought my land in the wrong area: I bought it in Helston, where you have plenty of blow-ins with plenty of money with plenty of sway with the local parish council, and who can play games all day long. I do not have the money to pay legal professionals to defend my claim or planning professionals to help put my cause to the council. I think the exact legal phrase for what I’m allowed to use my land for is ‘nil’. So I live in my van on the road, and don’t get any grief for it, though I probably would if I didn’t keep my head down. I’m happy with that.