Now don't get me wrong. I love to jet away to the farthest corners of the universe just as much as the next person. But there's just something so satisfying about soothing a case of wanderlust right on your very doorstep, don't you think? Trips that serve no higher purpose than exploring the hidden gems littered like breadcrumbs under your window ledge. Adventures that you don't go out of your way to seek are always the most memorable because they are just bursting with the unknown.

Our escapades last Wednesday fulfill this description. I jumped at any excuse to visit the outside world after being cramped in my room doing revision all weekend. When Mollie suggested a road trip to Ogmore-by-Sea, I was all in.

We haven't been to Ogmore in years, and I mean years. Before boyfriends, braces and bras at least! Although we took a few wrong turns (okay, five wrong turns and three missed exits), we managed to drive down the sea-framed road which was just as ruggedly beautiful as I remembered it to be.

Scaling up and down the knotted crags of rock brought back my childhood memories of this beach. Although my legs were a little longer, and my fear of slipping and falling to my death more apparent, I remembered what it felt like to have that salty breeze tangle my strawberry blonde hair into a million tiny tangles. I remembered crawling through the smallest of gaps in the rocks, their echoey wetness arching high above my head as I chased my sister. I remembered the time all our sandwiches became sprinkled with sand when that perpetual gust blew off the waves. Nothing had changed in this small corner of Glamorgan. And in a period of my life where everything seems to be evolving faster that I can write it down, it was a small comfort to witness the consistency of my childhood coastline.