It was Daughter’s birthday last week, and this year’s plans involved a trip to St Ives with her best mates, including a mosey around the Tate.

This came as some surprise, not least because the last time we took her to the Tate – to enhance some homework about naïve artist Alfred Wallis – she grumped her way around it, roundly and vocally dismissing it as “time I won’t get back”.

But then, she was with us, her parents. BORING. Perhaps it would be more fun with friends – and it’s certainly cheaper, and less stressful, than hiring an entertainer and/or bouncy castle plus mountains of food for a classful of ankle-biters.

Such civilised activities are a sign of increasing maturity. I recall going through a similar Damascene conversion at the same age following a brilliant school trip to beautiful Northumberland. Upon my return home, much to my mother’s amazement, I ripped down all the posters of my pop idols from Smash Hits and chose some delightfully pretty wallpaper instead.

“She’s growing up,” said one of Mum’s friends, most sagely (and not at all patronisingly). And so the cycle continues. The train journey to St Ives is surely one of the most beautiful in the UK, and the Other Half and I took it with half a dozen gaggling 14-year-old girls (apologies to our fellow passengers).

Upon arrival, we let them off the leash to go shopping while we enjoyed a peaceful coffee and pastry with harbour views. After fun and games in the arcade, we snaked through St Ives’ narrow streets in search of the Tate.

But first: lunch. To save money, we had advised them all to bring their own sandwiches. Of course, you then have to find somewhere to eat them, which is no easy task in St Ives. The seagulls were recently classed as some of the hardest in the country: XL Gullies, if you will.

They were certainly on form that day, swooping and lunging at our poor girls, who screamed and dropped their food or threw it as far as possible. Mission accomplished: Gulls 6, Girls 0.

Other beach users glanced askance in our general direction, as if we were deliberately feeding our winged assailants. I’m sure they thought we were clueless holidaymakers from the landlocked Midlands, rather than hardy Cornwall residents. “Haven’t you sign the signs that say ‘Do not feed the gulls’?” they doubtless tutted under their collective breath.

Give us some credit. I’m no rookie - I’ve lost many an ice cream or a pasty to these bold blighters, often working in pairs (one makes you drop it, the other one claims the prize – you know the drill). They go for locals and visitors alike – they’re not fussy.

So I read with interest the news that research from the University of Exeter’s Penryn Campus that seagull chicks raised on an “urban” diet still prefer seafood.

Scientists studied herring gull chicks that had been rescued after falling off roofs in towns across Cornwall. Raised in captivity before being released, they were given either a “marine” diet of fish and mussels, or an “urban” diet containing mostly bread and cat food. 

Every few days the gull chicks were presented with a choice of all four foods in different bowls, to test which they preferred – and all gulls strongly favoured fish. Those that tried the bread rarely ate much of it. 

The conclusion: even when reared on an ‘urban’ diet of foodstuffs found only around people, these chicks might be unlikely to seek out urban foods as adults.

The trouble is, herring gulls are on the UK’s List of Highest Conservation Concern due to ongoing population declines. A combo of reduced fish stocks in UK waters, and easy access to food waste, may mean it is not as profitable for gulls to expend energy foraging at sea.

As senior author Dr Neeltje Boogert says, it’s not that they prefer this food, “rather they are making the best of a bad situation”.

They got plenty of sandwiches and pasties from our girls, although Daughter managed to hang onto her sushi. Perhaps it was Girls 1, after all.

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I was privileged to be one of the first to tour the Royal Cornwall Museum’s revamped mineral gallery when it reopened last Thursday. When Daughter was young, this was one of our favourite activities. She especially loved to open the drawers and discover the secrets held within.

However, it was starting to look a little tired, so a facelift was long overdue (plus word has it a few fingers were trapped in those drawers).

The finished space really is dazzling, from the eye-catching floor-to-ceiling display cabinet to the wall paint enriched with Cornish minerals for extra significance.

Daughter is very into her crystals these days, so I can’t wait to go back with her, just like old times, to hear her verdict.