Going to the seaside around 1950-1955

lavendermine

We used to go to Butlins Holiday Camp (as it was called then) A different one every year. I remember going to one in Ayr.
My mother used to enter me for various contests, and I have pictures of me being on a stage holding a number and with my hair in ribbons looking something like Shirley Temple! I think my mother was always disappointed my hair was blonde and straight, and used to curl it!

We only went to Butlins once. I got smacked by a Redcoat!!! Goodness knows what would happen if such a thing happened now!! I probably deserved it.

Jacksjacky

I have memories of Lepe Beach as well. We used to stay with relatives in Blackfield every summer. I remember putting a live crab in a bucket and taking it into the cafe that used to be there. Of course the bucket got knocked over, the crab escaped and we were scrambling around the floor trying to catch it.
Then there were walks in the New Forest, Day trip to the Isle-of-Wight, and rides on the little train at Hythe to catch the Hotspur ferry to Southampton.
Happy memories.

Like dogsmother we lived in a seaside town and I went to the beach with my friends most days after school. Even if it was raining - it was warmer in the sea when it rained.
Later, nearer 1950, I helped the beachpony owner exercise the horses on the beach hard sand and the sand dunes.
During the war the beach was closed off because we were on the NE coast and there was a threat of German invasion. There were protective tank traps, and concrete lookout posts. Some of which are still there now.

We used to go to Butlins Holiday Camp (as it was called then) A different one every year. I remember going to one in Ayr.
My mother used to enter me for various contests, and I have pictures of me being on a stage holding a number and with my hair in ribbons looking something like Shirley Temple! I think my mother was always disappointed my hair was blonde and straight, and used to curl it!

Goodness, JackyB, you must have enjoyed that freedom. No, it would certainly be different nowadays.

Giulia I remember those train journeys that seemed interminable and the constant “Are we nearly there yet?” Those first glimpses of the sea were wonderful too, but the smuts from the open window less so. I think that’s why people always chose to sit “back to engine”. Nowadays I have to sit facing the way I’m going and I love train journeys.

Another Channel Islander here although a small one. Practically lived on the beach during the summer months when young. Could wander across without supervision, an idyllic childhood that none of appreciated at the time. Someone once pointed out it was Swallows and Amazon’s and it really was.

This was in the (early) 60s: We always stayed at Scratby, near Gt Yarmouth. Our holiday let was literally just on top of the cliff. There was chicken wire around the garden but it was easy to get out and make the almost vertical descent down the sandy footpath to the beach. I was an early riser in those days and would scare my parents by clambering down the cliff and walking about on the beach on my own before they were up. I remember my cousin being sent down to look for me.

Nowadays I would have conniptions if I knew a six-year- old was attempting that descent on their own and then walking about so near the sea, but the path is probably concreted over and equipped with hand rails, and the bungalow door would be locked and the gate bolted!

I had a ‘ruched’ swimsuit, too, *Marydoll’.

I seem to recall my father having dark red woollen swimming trunks but maybe not hand knitted since I don’t remember them sagging - he swam with us in the sea a lot so I’d def. have remembered saggy embarrassment when he got out.

Thank you, everybody, for your lovely nostalgic memories.

You brought back other memories: the donkey rides, sticks of rock, and little guest houses. Also waiting for the fairy lights to come on along the promenade - always a magical moment.

Living on an island, we often went to the beach with my mum.
Sometimes we would really live it up, and go to Shoeburyness at the weekend.
A poncho to get changed under, a flask of tea, and some warm cheese sandwiches, and orange armbands for swimming.
What a treat!
We had to sit for a while after lunch, to let our food "fall off the shelf", otherwise we would have drowned.

My nana ran her Ramsgate home as a boarding house in the 50's and I stayed with her every summer. I remember the sands with Punch and Judy/donkeys/the nuts'n'raisins man and the seafood stall, where I'd be given a little parcel of winkles and a pin to eat them with.

The lights round the harbour and along The Front were magical and we'd go for a promenade every evening just to see them lighting up. On the way back it would be rig and chips and a bottle of Vimto. Of course, it never rained .

We didn’t have a car so on a Saturday if the forecast was hot sunshine we would catch a red double decker bus and head to the Ayrshire Coast. (we may have played together Marydoll)
The windbreak would be put up and the picnic blankets spread out while my brother and I built lots of huge sandcastles around our “pitch” to prevent other families from moving into “our” territory.
Boundaries established it was a race to get into the freezing water where our dad tried to teach us to swim. A slightly gritty and very early picnic lunch usually followed the cold “dook” or perhaps just a “chittering bite” then off to the rock pools to fish for crabs and other interesting creatures.
We happily whiled away the time playing with a bat and ball, running races or playing footie with regular sorties into the icy Firth of Clyde. I remember us eating huge amounts of sandwiches as each time we returned to base we always announced we were starving.
Around 5ish we would pack up and head to the bus stop, tired, uncomfortable with sand on sunburnt skin and not really wanting to go home. My brother and I would fall asleep on the bus and if we were lucky our parents would carry us home. As we got bigger we were made to walk home and after a bath with closed eyes we were deposited into our lovely beds to dream about our day at the beach.

From the age of 6 we lived in a town at the seaside - my dad taught me to swim, from about 7 years old a crowd of us who lived in the same roads would either walk or cycle to the swimming pool, when it opened for the summer in May we all rushed to try to get the newest number of a season ticket. |The schools would issue a booklet giving us one trip to the swimming pool, one donkey ride, one trip on the Duck, etc, a trip to the tennis courts. These tickets were really appreciated.

JackyB

Floriel

There is a marvellous novel by R C Sherriff called A Fortnight in September about an English family’s holiday in Bognor in the 1930s. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

I think I heard it on BBC Sounds as an (abridged) audiobook. Was compelling even though nothing happened! I have just looked it up. Unfortunately it is no longer available there.

I was born in 1954 so I don't remember any seaside holidays that early. My mother said I was a very placid baby though and once slept through a whole mealtime on the beach as the "grown-ups" were so involved in their game of Badminton that they forgot all about me.

Later memories consist of the sight and feel of jellyfish, the smell of Nivea sun tan oil (LPF zero) and sand sticking to everything. Our mother had made what she called "tabards" out of two rectangles of towelling to slip on over our wet swimsuits. Scraps of the same cloth were still in the drawer with her dusters when we cleared out the house on her death.

You can get this on kindle for E9,09. Its "The Fortnight..."

1950 - 1955, I was about 4 - 9y. then. We didn't go away for a holiday, but had days out, ( often when it had rained a lot & my father couldn't work on the land!!)
We would have a day at Wicksteed Park, (near Kettering), we would go on the "free" swings & slides, then a real treat, a ride on the little train, the water shute or the boating lake. Another day we would go to Old Hunstanton, Norfolk, for a day on the beach. (also went to Hunstanton on the annual Church outing.)
We would sometimes meet up with various aunts, uncles & cousins on these trips, always taking picnic foods with us.

& where do we choose to go now? Oh yes, to the NW Norfolk coast.!

There were day trips to Canvey Island with extended family, a photos of me (1950) in a very baggy swimsuit makes me laugh.

There were holidays, saved hard for, to damp, uncomfortable caravans always by the sea. Sometimes shared facilities, sometimes a toilet and washbasin of our own in a shed type building next to the van. Often extended family were there too.

I was always in the sea no matter the weather. They were old fashioned seaside holidays, sandcastles, paddling, little boats, burying whoever dared to lie down in the sand. Ice cream a real treat, certainly not daily. Every penny carefully budgeted. When we were able to graduate to a chalet or more modern caravan holiday life became much more comfortable

It gave me a life long love of beaches and the sea, encouraged me to ensure our children had their own seaside magical holidays. Those 1950’s days have left a legacy that my parents couldn’t have foreseen.

I had a relative who lived in Kwnt so we had a holiday there several years from 1953 . We always went to Margate and to Dreamland and sat on the beach most days if possible . I had to trwite ina notbook what I did all day and I remember one entry said " had chips and onions twice " I can still picture the restaurants. We went down by train and the train would pass a field near where we lived so the neighbours would wave tea clothes at us . I did not realise then how lucky I was to probably be the only child among the neighbours who got a holiday . My worst memory is of my parents treating everyone to a proper Sunday lunch in a posh hotel . I choose roast beef and it arrived still oozing red . I could not face it .

I only ever remember spending a week at the seaside twice when I was young. One was in Blackpool with my mother and grandmother and a posse of aunties (my father was allergic to my mothers female relatives, so he didn’t come!) - stayed in a boarding house. I hated Blackpool. It wasn’t what the seaside of my childhood dreams was supposed to be! And once when we went camping in a Dormobile to Penmaenmawr on the north Welsh coast. The rest of the time it was freezing day trips to the East Coast of Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. I didn’t actually believe that the sea could be blue and not grey until I was eighteen and went away to Cornwall for a week with a friend. We stayed in a country pub near Penzance. I thought the whole area was idyllic.

We lived in Wirral so there were beaches on our doorstep - West Kirby, Meols, Hoylake, Red Rocks, New Brighton. We often spent holidays with our grandparents, who had retired to Knott-End-on-Sea - so more seaside! I loved collecting shells and looking in rock pools. At Knott End, which was a sort of magic place to my brother and me, I was very keen on the pier (or was that in Fleetwood?), in particular the slot machine that showed a sinister animated scene of The Condemned Cell, complete with hanging. I was the least violent of children, so it was a very strange taste! I was about six or seven.

We went to Blackpool and Rhyl several times but then my aunt moved to various nice seaside places with her job and we could go and stay with her in her flat.

Breakfast.
I loved being allowed to play on the amusements machines on the piers and enjoyed choosing a postcard to send to Granny and Grandad.
I was allowed to take my two ‘teenage dolls’ (forerunners of Barbie) and a tiny suitcase of clothes (made by Mum) for them and I expect choosing an outfit for them each morning kept me quiet!
My parents must have saved all year for that holiday. What wonderful memories.

We had a week in Lowestoft every year. Travelled by train (no car in those days). Always stayed in the same self catering flat every year and I remember listening to the sea as I fell asleep. Poor Mum had to do all the food and sent an order ahead for the landlady to get the corner shop to deliver. The last night we had fish and chips from round the corner, such a treat for me as we never had ‘bought’ fish and chips at home but I expect even more so for Mum!
Dad booked a beach hut every year, for the next year on the last day of every holiday. Every day was spent at the beach hut, food having been prepared by Mum. I had a bubbly sort of ‘bathing costume’ as they were called and had so much fun making sandcastles and paddling - I never learned to swim.
Dad went swimming first thing every morning before breakfast which I know worried Mum as at that time he only had partial sight in one eye. Then we had a lovely cooked

Floriel

There is a marvellous novel by R C Sherriff called A Fortnight in September about an English family’s holiday in Bognor in the 1930s. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

I think I heard it on BBC Sounds as an (abridged) audiobook. Was compelling even though nothing happened! I have just looked it up. Unfortunately it is no longer available there.

I was born in 1954 so I don't remember any seaside holidays that early. My mother said I was a very placid baby though and once slept through a whole mealtime on the beach as the "grown-ups" were so involved in their game of Badminton that they forgot all about me.

Later memories consist of the sight and feel of jellyfish, the smell of Nivea sun tan oil (LPF zero) and sand sticking to everything. Our mother had made what she called "tabards" out of two rectangles of towelling to slip on over our wet swimsuits. Scraps of the same cloth were still in the drawer with her dusters when we cleared out the house on her death.

Ooo yes. the train ride. I loved it.
We just had a day out mostly to Mablethorpe. Sometimes Clacton, Brighton, Felixstowe when my dad had his summer holiday from work.
When I was 11 and 13 years old we hired a caravan for a week in Sparrows Nest, Lowestoft. Unfortunately we travelled by coach. I get travel sick so not nice.
Love the photo's Marydoll.