Trailer Park

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.

Comments

[Robbie]

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.

[Carlton]

I can't argue with you, Rob. No finer achievement than a (fake) transformer watch. Do you still have it?

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