I read somewhere that many of our earliest memories come from family holidays.

Hopelessly Devonian grew out of that thought. Over the past few months, with my four-year-old son Frankie at my side, we experienced everything Devon had to offer while staying with our family: banger racing, county shows, steam trains, surfing, rock-pooling, pilot gig racing, and cricket at what must be the most beautiful pitch in the world. Sometimes as spectators, sometimes as first-time participants.

In doing so, I found myself reunited with some of my own childhood memories while witnessing the ones my son and other children may one day hold as their first and fondest. The series became a way of reflecting on our culture and the traditions we share and pass on to the next generation and what it means to hand a world both joyful and fragile to our children.

A love letter to summer, to childhood memory, and to the delicate inheritance we leave behind, the title Hopelessly Devonian nods to how our culture and traditions shape us, often without our own realisation.