Your holidays as a child.

The first holiday I remember was a week in Blackpool when I was 7, then we went again when I was 12. We stayed in a boarding house down Chapel Street, the same one each time, we bought our own food and they cooked it. I remember when I was there aged 7 I had one of those very stylish knitted swimsuits that stretched alarmingly when wet, showing off way too much of my anatomy, good job I was only 7!! I made friends with a little girl staying at the same place, called Jean Whittle, wonder if she`s on Gransnet?
The next holiday I remember was aged 13, my auntie taking me to Paignton to stay for a week with friends of hers, the husband was manager of a jewellers shop on the main street, called Goss Mabin, and they lived in the flat over the shop. It was a brilliant week, I loved Paignton harbour, there were always lots of lovely cats and kittens around there.

We went away for two weeks every July and usually to the Hebrides, via Oban. Tobermory, Mull, Iona, Tiree, Colonsay are the places which come to mind ... such small places I wonder now how we spent 2 whole weeks there without once being bored!

Much time was spent on the beaches and (shivering at the very thought!) in the water!
On Iona (2 years in a row) I fed the pet lambs who came running to my call over the machair ... absolutely magical to a child! On Tiree I had a flock of hens at my ankles constantly and yet I'm not in the least an animal person??

Also went to Arran a couple of times where we joyously went to the Scripture Union beach mission EVERY day!

We stayed at farm/guest houses on full board so even Mum got a holiday.

Ahh, those were the days!

My first holiday was Mum and Dad on their tandem and me in the sidecar. We went to Runnymede, not far from Hounslow where we lived. Also remember a holiday with my parents friends. We had no car so went on the train to Deal, Kent. The excitement of being picked up from the station in a 'car' and arriving at the holiday camp. What a let down, broken door handle, multi large cobwebs, grubby windows. Mum and auntie spent the rest of the day sprucing up the chalet/shed. A trip to Belgium when I was about 10. Dad's place of work were playing football against the Belgian team. We flew from tiny Lydd airport, and Mum hanging onto her seat while we lumbered down the runway, watching the much too close sheep. Great big alsation dogs at a border, somewhere, and guards with guns. First encounter with the downy duvets, and the most delicious deep fried, breadcrumbed soft cheese. Height of sophistication. Oh, and seeing the Manekin Pis, oh my.

Forgot to say that we also went and stayed in a converted railway carriage. I think it was somewhere like Angmering, but not sure. Thanks Gagagran for reminding me, as no one else I know has been in one, I thought it was my imagination.

With one exception we went to our granny's in Fife. She had a lovely house with a huge garden, full of every kind of soft fruit, ripe for picking. And a croquet lawn. We went over to St Andrews to bathe at the West Sands and had ice cream from the famous Janetta's. Of course, it never rained. The one exception was a camping trip (three daughters and a Boxer in a pre-war Morris 12) up the West Coast as far as Gruinard Bay where we camped by an idyllic beach. We kids and the dog had a wonderful time. I don't think it was so great for my Mum who had to cook on a Primus stove and all too often dry out damp bedding. We never went camping in tents again. In my teens, we had a caravan.

My first holiday was to the Isle of Wight when I was 2. There is a photo of me on the beach with my Mum and a glass fishing float which we had found - underneath is written "5.30am" so it was obviously no holiday for my parents with an early rising 2yr old. We always had a seaside holiday each year, usually in Devon or Cornwall as Mum loved to surf and as I got older I spent the summer with my cousins who lived in Exeter and had a cottage on Dartmoor where we used to run wild. One year we had a visit from a policeman who told us to stay locked in the cottage as a prisoner had escaped from the Prison; we could see the prison officers searching the moor with dogs - creepy and almost Dickensian with the mist swirling. My first trip abroad was a coach trip to Belgium and France when I was 11 where I had my first encounter with a bidet . So many happy memories.

We had a couple of trips to the Scottish Borders to visit Dad's family. In those days you could travel all the way from our village in Gloucestershire to Berwick upon Tweed by train. Other than that, my sister and I were packed off to our Aunty and Uncle's in Bristol for a few weeks each summer. Mostly we entertained ourselves because they had a greengrocers shop but on their day off they used to like visiting places where something awful , like a murder, had happened, just for a look.
The other highlight of our summer was the Sunday School Outing to Weston Super Mare where the tide was always out, or Barry Island.

Until I was 11 our holidays were a weekly rover ticket for the railway. This meant we could travel as much as mum and dad wanted throughout the week. We would visit a different seaside town in our area each day. Margate, Ramsgate, Broadstairs.
My first holiday away was a week in a caravan in a village near Weston Supermare. There were no facilities on site it was just about twenty caravans in a field. It was near the beach though. The bus stop was at the end of the lane in the village which had a pub and a shop. I remember getting the bus into Bristol to visit mum's excentric aunts.

We only had one holiday in the UK when I was a child because we were always abroad with Dad being in the RAF. I have fond memories of two weeks at Hemsby. The sun shone every day and my younger brother and I had great fun on the beach. My older brother was on holiday from boarding school and I think he spent most of the time checking out the 'talent'

Mum used to call Weston, Weston Super Sludge. We used to go on the Yatton Special [sp] to Clevedon. I think it was Clevedon that gave me a life long love of Victorian/Edwardian seaside towns [preferably with piers].

I'll never forget my dad getting off the train when it stopped at a station to buy [I would assume, knowing my dad] some cigarettes, and me being worried sick that he'd not get back in time.

Oh yes tegan I remember those stops with time to buy a paper or cup of tea!

We used to travel by coach from Tyneside down to either Great Yarmouth or Margate almost every year. It was one hell of a long journey and you could almost guarantee that either me or my sister would be travel sick. We always had a fantastic time when we got there though and stayed in the same guest houses, Bed,breakfast and evening meal. I remember thinking that Arctic Roll for pudding was the most luxurious thing in the world (late 60's early 70's) . My sister and I would have several new outfits and we loved dressing up to see a show. Usually people like Morcambe and Wise, Freddie Star, Tommy Cooper etc. who ever happened to be doing the circuit at the time.
Happy times.

In the 50s we had holidays in Cliftonville, next to Margate. We took 'rooms' and had a chalet on the beach. We had three meals a day on the beach and the same families rented the same chalets every year. All my parents friends knew we were there and at the weekend the adults would sit in a large circle on the beach while poor mum boiled water for tea in a large kettle bought for the purpose. We had enough people for two full cricket teams. At night we would go to hear the organist playing and I would get a peach (6d) . We had lovely holidays but poor mum came back exhausted.

We stayed with our grandad ..who hated kids!!! Remember my mum crying she was so depressed..having to keep four youngsters quiet !

When we were children we regularly went to the Isle of Man.

Setting sail from either Fleetwood or Liverpool, we crossed the ocean on the Isle of Man steam packet ships, Mona's Queen, Mona's Isle, Lady of Mann etc. My mum used to love the crossing, especially if a little choppy, but I wasn't too sure.

When we arrived at Douglas, we walked along the prom to the small hotel we were booked into, and spent most of our time on the beach.

We always bought a weekly ticket for tram rides, and circled the island, visiting different places, and always went up Snaefell.

I remember those holidays with great affection, happy days!

Like KatyK - I never did have a holiday as a child. 'Never missed it though - didn't know what the concept of a holiday was, so have never been that bothered, not even now. I do live in a lovely part of the country though - 'often feel I am on holiday when I walk into town.

Lelant, near St Ives in Cornwall. We used to stay with a lady who did BandB and a packed lunch. We went for so many years she became a family friend. I can still see the house where we used to stay.The beach there was always almost deserted and the weather, in memory, was always perfect. She used to do fantastic food, no half larks for her, and we used to,book up for the next year before we left. We got to know Cornwall so well, a lovely place. I have some very happy memories of holidays there.

We went to Ireland for our summer holidays, every year. My mum managed to take myself and my sister with 2 suitcases from London, on the bus to the tube station, tube to the train all the way to Holyhead to catch "the boat" to Dublin, where my uncle Dessie would collect us and take us to stay with family in Navan, Co Meath. Absolute freedom. Playing with cousins all day long. The best days of my life. What a great mum for giving us this every year.

There is a lovely book called 'A fortnight in September ' by RC Sheriff. Its about a family seaside holiday. Its extremely simple and is about exactly that but its absolutely charming. I think it must be about the pre war period. I strongly recommend it for a lovely relaxing read.

Did anyone experience the wild west of Ireland in the fifties? Chicken farms and donkeys on the fields where they were cutting up the peat.
As we lived in the north of Ireland from 1950-1954, we were often brought to my grandparent's farm in Co Meath. But for our family holiday we used to hire cottages in the west of Eire and took boats out every day to catch our meal, or go around the rocks with nets, catching a mass of prawns, plenty of them in those days. One cottage front door fell down on top of us, another had cockroaches all over the cottage, but all pulled down now!
However from 1956 we started to spend holidays in the south France as we were then living in Kent. I had one skiing holiday in Switzerland when there were only 10 others in the class learning to ski. Then came Spain when I was a teenager, but only one holiday with my parents, until I did the exchange visit that I have mentioned in previous messages. So I was very lucky as I do remember the mass of caravan sites that were not far from where we lived in Kent.

We always went to Boston to stay with my auntie flo then day trips to Skegness, loved donkey rides on beach.Then my parents decided to try b&b in Hastings for a week and I was allowed to take my best friend.

Never had a holiday en famille until I was 15, when we went on the bus to Scarborough to stay in a b&b recommended by my grandparents. The journey was approx. two hours from where we lived, but the bus had two half hour stops en route so that passengers could attend to a call of nature or 'enjoy' a cup of strong tea in the cafe. I frequently take the bus to Scarborough nowadays to do a bit of shopping and always smile when it passes one of the stop-off cafes. Can't believe that we were considered quite adventurous travelling so far and also quite 'exotic'!

Westward Ho ! circa 1956 in a family hotel which was full of happy youngsters and their parents. The hotel laid on fun and games for the children like egg and spoon races etc.

I remember being on the beach in my saggy,ruched swimming costume and how uncomfortable it felt if sand got in. A rubber bucket and spade. My father making sand cars, finishing off the finer details with a large penknife.

Thanks for reviving a happy memory.

I remember two holidays as a child. Weymouth when I was 11 and the IOW when I was 12. On the Weymouth holiday we went to Bournemouth to see Tom Jones at the theatre, my brother was only 4 and got a boiled sweet stuck in his throat and began to choke . My father hit him so hard on the back the sweet bounced all down the steps in the aisle and everyone looked at us, I was mortified, never mind my poor brother. The second holiday my mother was ill for most of it but I do remember making sand shapes from the coloured sand to take home. Before that it was a day trip to Porthcawl on the train and the whistle of the steam train woke my brother up in his pushchair and he howled, he was only 2. My first "grownup" holiday was with my best friend when I was 16 we went to Pontins in Weston-Super-Mare and thought we were so grown up. I came third in the talent show singing. I still have a photo of it. My first holiday abroad was at 19 and we went to Tunisia for our honeymoon it cost us £37 each all in flights included. This was at the time my monthly wage was just over £20. Kids wouldn't believe it now. I still love to travel and adore flying .