Old fashioned Holidays

I remember in my sweet single days booking a week off work when the other half was working away and sleeping for about 22 hours every day. It was magical

Going on the train to Blackpool, staying in the same boarding house each time. The Children's Show at Blackpool Tower and dancing round the Ballroom with my brother or my dad. The magic of circus ring filling with water for the finale. Going for an early morning walk along the prom with my parents and brother and drinking milky coffee bought from a narrow stall before going back for breakfast and going on the rides in Olympia after a first house show. By the time I was 9 we started going to Carbis Bay in Cornwall, we loved it there and spent many happy hours on the beach or visiting Penzance, Lizards Point, Lands End and of course St.Ives and I still have a glass ballerina I watched being made there at a craft market 54 years ago. Wonderful memories.

Ali08. Yes, I can see the sea!!

I have so enjoyed reading the wonderful holiday stories.
My mum was a widow with not much money and not much leave from her work so we went to childminders in the holidays and to summer Sunday school camp which I loved. We slept in Bell tents and there was one cold tap in the field.
A camp kitchen where many sausages and baked beans were cooked.
A camp fire and singing every night and a midnight feast was planned and happened but I slept right through and woke to find a tin of peaches had dripped all over my sleeping bag..
One night there was a storm and the boys' tent collapsed so they had to shelter in with us girls.
All this happened just a few miles outside London and we travelled on the tube to get there.

Wearing our oldest clothes on the days leading up to the holiday because all our proper stuff was being washed and ironed and folded up in the suitcase.

We always went down to Devon or Cornwall from Surrey & stayed on farms.
I was an only child so my parents had a hard time I think to amuse me all day. Dad was a champion sandcastle maker!!
Luckily by the time I had reached 13 Mum had discovered Spain so it was Costa Brava from then on until I discovered Greece & went away with my friends.

We lived in England for years when I was young, but mum, my sister and I went to stay with my nana ( exciting sleeper train on way up) and dad came up when he got his holiday from work. We went to Ayr or Prestwick to a hotel for a week.
Happy memories of playing on the beach or having a game of putting. Even when we moved back to Scotland, Ayr, Prestwick, Troon, Girvan were the regular holiday destinations.
I loved horses and remember one year on holiday in Ayr, spending the whole time going to the stables in the morning and helping take the ponies to the beach and lead them up and down all day! Unpaid, of course - they must have been short of their usual volunteers that year.

Seems we got up very early, still dark, very excited to be going by train from Yorkshire to Blackpool, my teenage brother was a signalman and we waved to him from the train. Same boarding house near Stanley park. Mum had to shop first to buy our tea for the landlady to cook. Mum knitted a white cardigan every year for me. I still have photos of us, (from 60 years ago) mum and dad with coats on in deckchairs. Happy memories but dad died when I was 11.

Going to Butlins with cousins on a train.
My mum cried she said it was like a prison camp and didn't like the canteen like food.
The cousins were all left in a chalet one night {there was a constant patrol} and we started to fight it was announced in the ballroom where our parents were we were in lots of trouble. The highlight of the week was when my aunt fell out of a rowing boat and would not wade to the shore.
We then all changed to Blackpool , and so did half of West Cumbria. It was Stop fortnight in the mines.
Walking along the prom we played saying hello to people we knew, my cousins always won because my dad wasn't a miner.
Staying up late and going to shows to see Ken Dodd and Shirley Bassey in our Sunday best frocks.
Being travel sick as usual as soon as we got into the Lakes and having to stop the coach.
Mum making fizzy pop by mixing orange juice and AndrewsLiver salts.
Giggling at the raunchy postcards and getting pushed on.
Pocket money spent on Blackpool rock and if possible the ones like fried eggs or dog mess.

From the age of 5 until I was 11 we went on camping holidays, we would find a nice place & my Dad would knock on the farmer's door to ask if we could camp in a field. Only once stayed at a campsite for one night on our way to Devon, we lived in Yorkshire. We also did Scotland, West coast one year, East coast the next.

On our 1st holiday we went to Wales, 1st night we were washed out & spent the night in a B & B.

A friend of he family had a car so he came with us & drove, roof rack with spiders holding everything on

We went to Anglesey on my last holiday & stayed at a campsite, the Police came to find my parents to tell them that both my Granddads had had a heart attack so we went home early. Paternal Grandad died shortly after we got home. Maternal Grandad lived with us so from age 11 & from then on my parents went on caravan holidays, I stayed at home with Grandad.

I've very fond memories of my childhood holidays in the early 1960's. Mum or Dad cooking on a primus stove, my first taste of Smash, I wasn't impressed

My favourite holiday was in North Devon, visited Clovelly, Linton & Lynmouth. We stayed near Woody Bay. Now I live in Devon on the edge of Dartmoor National Park, I'm only about 8 miles from Teignmouth & 10 from Torquay where my DD & family live.

Happy days

Never went abroad as a child. We stayed for 1 whole month in a wooden hut, no mod cons, gas light and 2 gas rings- right by a lake. We were allowed to just go wild, in the water or in the rowing boat all day- games of cowboys and Indians in the evenings with kids of all ages. When my mother suggested we should go to Spain for a change, we point blank refused.

We kids were allowed to invite one friend each, 1 for the first 2 weeks, one for the last two. Just brilliant.

Famous 5 books, moneybox full of pennies and off to our caravan for 2 months ( hols in N.Ireland are July& August). Eating chips, candyfloss and dulce( seaweed). My aunt had a caravan opposite ours and she worked in a sweet shop, she used to bring boxes for milky ways, finger of fudge and ruffle bars. We were never away from her caravan door.

Holidays at my great aunt in Widnes. My dad drove all the way from Scotland and we would stop at various places on the way to stay with other relatives. She had a huge garden with fruit bushes, roses, lots of peas, beans, lettuces. In the greenhouse there were tomatoes. It was an old house and the beds were rock hard and we had linen sheets and hand towels edged in lace, probably her best.

A new famous five book, Bunty comic a new bucket or spade because we could never find both.Going to the variety show at the end of the pier.Swimming in the sea and crabbing on the pier.Fish and chips, fizzy pop and crisps.The sheer anticipation and excitement of a week in the seemingly never ending sun!

My childhood holidays were spent in the caravan but one year we actually went to a guest house. On caravan holidays my mum took a loaf of bread to the beach and made sandwiches there, and a bowl to whip up some Instant Whip! From the guests house I had the privilege of going to buy take away sandwiches from a cafe for us and I thought I was in heaven.

We didn’t go away. No money. Holidays were very much like Covid lockdown when I think about it. Lots of time to do jigsaws and play outside, lots of time to read, so we visited the library more often and lots of long walks.
My favourite walk crossed a canal half way there and we were allowed to cool our feet. Another went by some ‘slag heaps’ which we raced up and down with no thought of potential danger.
I-Spy flowers and trees means I can still identify many of them all these years later.

"I-spy on A Train Journey", because we always went by train. We didn't have a car until I was 13 and my sister and I were always sick on coach journeys. So we had to go to somewhere that was on a direct line from Leicester and had enough to keep us happy for a week. This meant Great Yarmouth, Skegness, Blackpool (until we all had diarrhoea and sickness) and Weston-super-Mare (but only once, as we had incredibly bad weather, which put everyone off, plus Mum complained that we got muddy on the beach.) When I was 10, we got a bit more adventurous and went to the Isle of Wight, which we all decided was lovely despite the hassle of changing trains.

Sometimes we went in guest houses but gradually switched over to caravans and chalets. Mum disliked the formality in guest houses - making small talk in the lounge, keeping us quiet and constantly on our best behaviour - and said that it was much nicer to have our own place. However, she also said that self-catering wasn't a real holiday for a woman, as she had to do all the cooking and cleaning up. I feel that Dad would have helped but I can't remember. It didn't occur to them that we could have eaten in cafes.

I liked the guest houses, even though we had to be good girls all the time. I liked changing into a clean frock for tea and watching anxiously to make sure that my sister didn't get the cake that I wanted. I also liked the novelty of sleeping in caravan bunks with a nightlight in a saucer of water, for safety reasons, after Dad had turned off the little gas light in our room. Every holiday followed the same pattern - all day on the beach followed by a show in the evening or a trip to the amusements. It was so familiar and so comforting.

I Spy books still available. I saw then in the P.O. the other day! Grandboys too old for them now!!!

We always had camping holidays.
A large tent,five children and two dogs.
Dad had a litttle mirror dingy and an outboard motor. I think we took one change of clothes for the week. How my Mum managed to assemble everything and get it all into one car I will never know.
The boat perched on a roof rack with tent underneath.
We had many adventures to the New Forest,Wales and the Lake District.
Instant mash,sausages and beans,one of many meals cooked on a little camping stove.
I remember the seven of us, plus dogs, bobbing about on Lake Windermere when the heavens opened.
Happy times.

We always had caravan holidays, very often either rented or borrowed from someone in our village, usually somewhere on the East coast.
Only time I was allowed a Bunty comic !
We always had those little individual boxes of cereal for breakfast.
Bottles of sterilised milk form the on site shop
Fray Bentos pies, tins of corned beef, tinned potatoes - caravans really only had 2 burners and a tiny oven and the only fridge was a bucket of cold water (that had to be collected from the communal tap!)
Trecking across the site to the toilet and shower block (our caravan always seemed to be the furthest away!)
No tv, just a radio to listen to
Mum was always terrified that the glass mantles over the lights would get broken by us bouncing on the beds, or just flinging back the covers if there were bunks!
In fact the smell and hiss of Calor gas
We always bought a bucket and spade each, plus a kite each that we always said we would take the next year, but never did.
Last morning, making the final visit to the beach and getting in the car to leave, with my pockets full of shells and pebbles.
Each day was spent on the beach, with an occasional visits to the nearest zoo or animal park.
We didn't seem to need the constant entertainments that todays children seem to need, which was a good thing, because we never had the money to spend on much more than the essentials.

What a lovely thread! The one thing that springs up on almost every post is that the children loved it, but poor Mothers were not really having much of a break. We drove up to Scotland two or three times a year for our holidays, and stayed with grandparents. I still know every spot on the A1 that we would pass and tick off (The Ram Jam Inn), every place we would stop for toilets or ice cream ( Appleby). One week with grandparents who lived in the country so a week spent up at the loch picknicking, or visiting aunts and uncles and cousins, then the second week with the other set of grandparents who lived in Prestwick within walking distance of the beach. We used to buy morning rolls from the bakers, sliced (Lorne) sausage from the butcher) and light a fire to cook everything in a frying pan. All four of us, plus luggage, crammed into a mini.

In the early 50's our annual 2 week holiday was spent in a self-catering 'bungalow' that had previously been a cow shed at Clacton. Small scullery kitchen, no 'fridge just a wooden cool box by the front door; outside toilet full of spiders, no bath or shower. There was an apple orchard with a lovely swingseat under the trees where I'd spend hours with my colouring books and comics. The owner allowed us to pick as many runner beans, peas and tomatoes as we wanted and it was then my task to shell the peas. My grandad took me for walks through the quiet lanes and told me about the trees, flowers and wildlife. We went to the beach if it was warm enough and again it was my grandad who helped me build sandcastles and explored rock pools with me. Mum just sat in a deckchair with her knitting and my Nan kept asking when we were going home. In the evenings we sometimes went to a pub called The Laughing Donkey where we could all sit outside, my Nan didn't really approve but still enjoyed her gin and tonic. Mum tried to take 'nice' photos of me to show the neighbours, but they always looked very posed and artificial. Being allowed to eat fish and chips, ice cream and candyfloss on the beach was a rare treat for me as my Nan did not approve of 'eating in public'. The second week of our holiday was spent shopping for thank you gifts to take home to neighbours - boring. Then there was the long journey home by buses and train lugging heavy suitcases. Happy days!

In the late 50s/60s we went upmarket to a proper bungalow on Canvey Island and thus began my love of island life. The very elderly lady who owned the bungalow moved into a caravan at the end of the garden while we stayed in her home. Our holidays followed much the same pattern but as I was now older I was allowed to go out and explore on my own. I loved wandering on the beach very early in the morning talking to dog walkers and the deckchair man. I also learned to ride bareback courtesy of a local traveller's son with a piebald pony. Mum would have been horrified if she'd known who I was with! I remember Canvey had a volunteer fire service who were called out by sounding sirens across the island. The first time it happened my grandad panicked as he thought the island was flooding again as it had in 1953!

Holidays to Canvey alternated with visits to Wales for my grandparents to see elderly relatives while they could still travel. When I was about 16/17 holidays came to an end because of my grandad's frailty and my Nan's dementia. But I have so many lovely memories of simple English seaside holidays.

And now I live on an island just a mile from the sea and try to give our grandchilden some of the same simple holiday pleasures when they visit us.

We never had holidays as a family as my parents were farmers and that’s a 365 days a year job. Instead, we’d take it in turns to go on holiday with our grandparents. I remember A b &b in Cliftonville, caravans at Paignton, B &B at Mevagissey with grandad sleeping in a gypsy caravan in the garden. Lovely old fashioned seaside holidays. Other times we’d just stay at my grandparents house in Birmingham which was so different from our farm house in the sticks that it was a holiday in itself. The only problem was the local kids who bullied us mercilessly for just not being local!

We couldn't afford to go on holiday every year but one memory is of walking along a beach on the east coast in howling winds, bundled up in a raincoat and mum saying through gritted teeth, "Smile, and try to look as though you are enjoying yourself!" They weren't all that bad though.

We didn't have holidays not enough money, but one year my father decided to hire a car and take us to Perranporth. I never did find out where that money came from. We drove across Salisbury plain in the pouring rain in the Ford Anglia whose windscreen wipers did not work on any kind of incline, my mother in the back with my sister being sick. We finally reached the guest house in time for lunch - one cold boiled potato, slice of spam and half a tomato. Nothing else, cup of tea was extra, our rooms overlooked a brick wall and pipes, so close you could lean out and touch it. My Father put us all back in the car and we drove home again. Never had another holiday until my sister and I went away together aged 20/21. I have never returned to Perranporth