Your holidays as a child.

My first holiday was in Blackpool aged 9months, we went to the same boarding house (Hull Road)every year until i was 7 or 8, I loved it there the couple who ran it had grandchildren similar ages to me and my brother, we didn't think they had to go to school because they lived at the seaside. We always had milk and chocolate biscuits for supper. When I was 9 we started going on holiday to Carbis Bay, Cornwall - it was like a different world.We stayed in a boarding house, Bed, breakfast and Evening meal, Mrs Roach ran it, her husband and brother ran the local garage and I remember taking their daughter Helen who was a similar age to my youngest brother down to the beach with us several times during our holidays, we were lucky as we always went for two weeks.at 12 i was lucky enough to start going on the annual foreign holidays with my secondary school, always 2 weeks at the beginning of the school holidays. Yugoslavia, Austria, Switzerland and France amazing holidays that I have never forgotten. It was only when I grew up that I realised the sacrifices my parents made that allowed me and then my brothers to have these holidays and I am forever grateful to them.

We had a seaside holiday every Summer, my parent were not well off but I was an only child for 13 years & my mother was a very thrifty housewife. My father was an office manager at the Midland Red bus company and we had free travel which helped. We stayed in a big hotel in Bournemouth and changed for dinner every night! We went to the beach every day, a coach trip once & a variety show one evening in the week. I could have as many ice creams as I wanted on the last day, it seemed wonderful but of course I couldn't really eat very many but it was such an indulgent idea. WH at I really wanted was one of the beach huts where people could change clothes and make cups of tea but we never managed that. When I was 13 my sister came along & everything changed!

The good holidays for us were when my parents were not there arguing! My brother and I, when we were old enough, used to set of for a little village in Devon called Lympstone, where we stayed with my grandmother - we walked on the beach and fished from the harbour wall, and took the train from the little station to Exmouth where we loved the boating pond.

My OH and I returned to Lympstone recently and thankfully it is relatively unspoiled - but my grandmother's house is unrecognisable now as it has been extended. They had a lovely vegetable garden surrounded by trellisses full of sweet peas. The memory of my brother pushing me round there in the wheelbarrow and brushing by the sweet peas releasing their wonderful scent is a precious one, and I plan sweet peas in my new garden!!

We went to the same place every year, southern Ireland, my mother was Irish. My parents owned a VW camper van, my mother and I sleeping inside, my dad in a tent beside. We camped at the farm owned by my grandfather for part of the time and the other week or so in Co. Wicklow where more relatives lived. I had plenty of cousins with whom I could play and we were always close to the sea and in those days I was a good swimmer. My recollection is that it was always sunny but I am sure that was not true.

I only went "abroad" to Spain once I had left home as was fending for myself.

For years we always went to a boarding house in Colwyn Bay and spent every day on the.beach! I do remember some wet days though and trailing round shops as we werent allowed back before evening! No ensuites then of course - - a shared bathroom and rota for the bath.
We also visited my grandparents in Cardiff sometimes and went to Roath Park and onto the beach at Barry Island which was always heaving. When I went for a paddle it was difficult to find my parents on the beach.
I have photos ofme making sandcastles either in a ruched swimsuit or with my dress tucked into matching knickers! Happy days!

Because my DM worked we were sent to stay with my favourite aunt in the Rhondda Valley for 6 weeks every Summer. Having been brought up in NE London this was absolute heaven. We ran free all day in the fields with our cousins and had the most wonderful times. When it was time to go home I would still be crying when the train got to Reading which was more than half way home! I still feel as if I am going home every time I cross the bridge into Wales. Cymru am byth.

Apparently my parents took me camping when I was six weeks old and I didn't go on holiday again until I was seventeen and I had a week at A holiday camp with a friend and her parents. Put me off holiday camps for the rest of my life, what a dreadful place.

We always had a holiday - we weren't well off but Mum saved up to take us to the coast every year. We didn't have a car, and my sister and I were both sick on buses, so we went by train. Skegness or Great Yarmouth were the usual destinations. We tried Blackpool a couple of times but then we had a terrible vomiting bug and never went back!

Sometimes we stayed in boarding houses but Mum hated the awkward conversations with the other guests - "Turned out nice again, hasn't it?" - and the need for sister and I to be on our best behaviour at all times, so our first caravan holiday was a joy. As far as I can remember, our holidays always followed the same pattern - all day on the beach, followed by evenings at a show or at the amusement park. It was very simple but we loved it, even when the weather was lousy.

Cornwall & Devon in small hotels or on farms. As an only child I spent loads of time with my Dad rock pooling, building huge sand castes & rock climbing. Wonderful days. One set of GPs lived near Clacton on Sea so we went there a lot-always Easter, bank hols etc. Then my mother's God mother was Spanish & so I got to spend a lot of time in Barcelona too.
I think I was very lucky.

We took our boys to farms in Dorset & Devon when they were young as I had enjoyed that life so much & they had a wonderful time.

DH lived in Havant & they went to a holiday camp on Hayling Island- about 5 miles away- every year. His Dad maintained all camps were the same anyway so why travel for hours when he could pop home to water the garden!

I never went on holidays until I was about 10 then it was to stay with relatives in Birmingham, not to be recommended. I spent most school holidays at home but my mother
Would take me to Whitley bay for days out, to rothbury which I love to this day but I have never prioritised holidays as I've always b egrudged the cost, I think about how I could spend the money on the house or other things. Many people do holidays on debt but I couldn't live with myself if I did that. Of the few holidays I have had, I think of the cost once I get home and regret it.

Until I was 10 my dad was chauffeur to the owners of a country estate and we always had use of the car for a week in the summer, when we'd journey from Yorkshire to my grandmother's near Portsmouth. We'd travel overnight with mum and dad taking turns at driving. No motorways then so straight down the A1, through London and onto the A3. Most days were spent on the beach at Southsea or Hayling Island and we would also have a picnic in the New Forest to see the ponies. Southsea had its own wonderful illuminations then so an evening trip to see them was on the cards.

About a year before we left there dad bought an old 'jalopy' and we'd have occasional precarious days out to Bridlington or Blackpool!

After that we moved to Portsmouth and didn't go away for holidays as we were so near to the sea. However, many of mum's Yorkshire relatives would come to stay with us in the summer

The year dad died, mum took my younger sister and I to Butlins at Filey. We all enjoyed it so much we went to their Bognor camp the following year, which was the last time we three went away together.

Sunday School outings to the seaside was the sum of my holidays. I was always sick on the coach, but I so remember that first magical glimpse of the actual sea!

I went once to Bournemouth on the train with a friend and her family. I managed to get off the train before I threw up. I have pictures of us all covered in sand sitting in a dugout we made. Happy times.

I have lived in Devon over half my life now but I was 'born and bred' in Croydon. Holidays for many years in a rented bungalow in Dymchurch, Kent. Always windy on the beach - sand in the sandwiches! I remember following lorries full of hop pickers on our way down. We used to walk down the road from the bungalow to watch the little steam train go past. When I was about 15 we reached the heady heights of the early days of package tours to Majorca!

My mum used to threaten to take me on hop picking "holidays". She never did, thank goodness. I think we would both have hated it.

As a young child we always went to Cornwall to stay with relatives. I loved it there and had great times with my cousins on the beach all day.
There was a lovely old fashioned beach cafe....in the 40s and early 50s this was. It took a whole day on the steam train called
The Cornishman.
We were met at the station by relatives and one of my cousins. She was always excited to see me....then after a few days we'd fall out ! Lol.
One year we were there when my Dad came back from WW2 and we all met him waving ? Union Jack Flags and I also remember my cousin and I being woken up one night to be told that the War was over.
Memories aye ?

Bridlington, every year. I wish I could say I have happy memories but I still hate the place. Much preferred roaming the countryside with my friends or reading. I love holidays now and manage about 4 or 5 a year. Have to make up for a childhood of 'Brid'.

Every year we had a week in August in a caravan on a site at Lyminster, just outside Littlehampton. I remember it rained a lot, but as long as I had a new book, a colouring book and pencils I was quite happy. At the age of 13 they suddenly wrenched me out of my comfort zone and we went "foreign" - to the Isle of Wight, where the weather was miraculously better.

I was a navy brat so until the age of 10 we were in various overseas locations like Malta, Aden and Gibralter , so a holiday was going home.

But my Mum got divorced when I was 10 and remarried and we then lived in Portsmouth. We didn't have a car so we went to Butlins at Bognor Regis for a week every year. We went by train and it was a huge adventure for us.

Even now my brother and sisters talk about what a fabulous time we had.

Straight after the war, we went on holiday to Margate. We stayed in a boarding house, turned out after breakfast and not allowed to return until time for the evening meal, so Mum and Dad hired a beach hut for the week. There was rationing still, so Mum saved up jelly blocks all the year to take on holiday, and every evening she boiled a kettle on a little spirit stove and made a jelly for the next day---we thought that was real luxury.

Used to have a week in Margate in b&b in the early fifties and then later on in my early teens Clacton then Paignton in Devon.

We never had a holiday when my Siblings and I were children as money was very tight. However, we did have a day at the seaside every summer. This may not sound very much, but to us, living in London it was tantamount to a second Xmas Day.?
Mum would make the sandwiches and the flasks of tea at the crack of dawn on the day itself and pack them into her large shopping bag along with a large tin of Orange juice which I remember had the most delicious, albeit slightly metallic taste.
We would all walk to the Coach stop where we would catch a Grey Green coach and begin our journey to the seaside. Southend was a popular destination.
I can still remember the excitement that I felt everytime I saw the sea for the first time on each trip.
Dad had to carry me over the pebbles to the sea as they hurt my bare feet and the whole family would have a paddle. Mum would always find a chunk of seaweed to bring home and hang on the garden wall as it was "good for predicting the weather".
The finale would be Fish and Chips followed by Strawberries and cream in the local Woolworths restaurant. This was followed by a visit to a shop to enable Mum to buy a cheap memento of our wonderful day out along with some sticks of rock.
It may have only been 1 day a year, but these trips were truly wonderful and I still treasure the memories more than 50 years later.
My Mum and Dad are no longer with us, but nevertheless, Thanks Mum and Dad for the truly happy memories.

How I loved the Barmouth area. We had caravan holidays just a few miles away for several years and the weather never let us down (honestly!).

Tenby, Colwyn Bay, Nefyn, St Davids.

Early 1961/2 I Remember holidays on the East Coast, Withernsea and a small place called Ulrome. My older sisters and brother allowed me to (probably under sufferance ) hang around with them, which for me,was exciting, as I would have been about 10yrs.There was a cafe that had a juke box, constantly playing Telstar by Tornadoes and Tell Laura I Love Her by Ricky Valance ( a tragic tale!) They still bring back memories on the rare occasion they are played on the radio. As it's been said, the caravan you stayed in was always the one that stood out from the rest, but not in a good way!!!