We came here when I was eight, apparently. I don’t remember much about it although there’s a rumour I won a talent show by singing the chorus of ‘Morning Has Broken’ twice while wearing a zip-up sky blue tracksuit. Still, those sorts of competitions were easier in the 1860’s. It was really only a choice between me and the Bearded Lady.
We’d returned for a cheap break. It was the same reason we pulled up in Hillman Avenger all those years ago. For a family holiday in the 70s, the camp site had been regarded as a Pretty Good Thing. For poor folk like us, the static caravans felt quite sophisticated, refined even. Besides, it was a holiday at the seaside. A holiday. At the seaside. It was always going to be great to an eight year old.
I suspect it hadn’t changed in those thirty years. Of course, we had. The Entertainment Complex didn’t seem any more elaborate: despite its rebranding it remained a squalid bar in the middle of a slot machine maze. From Opening to Closing people with nothing better to do fed fistfuls of copper coins into avalanche games and trifling one-arm bandits. Winning simply lengthened their stay.
Now, as then, our fellow holidaymakers, drove beat-up cars and bulged over their waistbands.
I looked at our old salon, with its dented wing, and my own extra pounds and my handful of pennies and realised I hadn't changed that much after all.
I miss caravan holidays. One of the best watches I ever bought was while on a caravan holiday in Rhyl. It was a (fake) transformer watch. The main face of the watch would unclip from the strap and could be transformed in to a robot. It was, possibly still, the greatest piece of technology I ever owned.
Posted by: Robbie | Thursday, 22 May 2008 at 05:31 PM
I can't argue with you, Rob. No finer achievement than a (fake) transformer watch. Do you still have it?
c
Posted by: Carlton | Friday, 23 May 2008 at 09:05 AM