Those last two paragraphs are brilliant! After the car journey description, I was ready for your holiday and then I remembered, the British weather -- which I too had the good fortune of experiencing for two summers, in Brighton, and in Wales. And then your wish for your parents, oh I do envy you your light touch.
Well, thank you, Anneke! Yes, the British seaside weather - I think that what I feel most compassion for now in my parents is the constant demands of all five of us to go to the beach no matter the weather. There are photographs of us all wrapped to the chin with the wind visibly howling through our hair ... but we were at the seaside, darn it, and the beach was where we were darn well going to go ...
My childhood was complicated; my parents, shall we say, didn’t get on. We didn’t go on holidays (which, in retrospect, is probably a relief), we did however have 'days out'. A neighbour - with a Fird Pop - took mum and us kids to various seaside resorts. Dad stayed at home.
It was usually Blackpool or Southport - or maybe Fleetwood or New Brighton. (Anybody else remember tge Royal Iris?)
Fleetwood was where somebody told me there was a whale, so I went looking for it. After a while, the family panicked and sent out search parties.
Someone found me and said, not unreasonably, "We've found you."
I was confused, "What?"
"You got lost", they explained.
"I'm not lost", was my smug response "I know where I am!" (I was a pain at a very early age.)
One time, we were going to Scarborough. We stopped in York for a break and went round the Railway Museum and the Castle Museum. By the time we finished it was too late to go to Scarborough and we went home.
As a result, Scarborough became incredibly romantic fir me. The Three Sisters may think Moscow is the ultimate destination, but they should have thought about Scarborough.
I later moved to Hull, so Scarborough became one of my go-to places - all because I didn't get there as a child.
Oooh! Thank you! The only time(s) I've written it up has been back in the days when we wrote letters. On paper. With ink. I had a group of friends who would send out stories/letters for mutual amusement. Sadly, they're no longer around - so I might have to start something on here.
(I think the Fleetwood element was included in something which had the title along the lines ‘I was an annoying child’…)
Following on from a conversation recently - remember them? - I'm thinking about a Christmas one! But as the summer of 1976 is 50 years ago, you may just have prompted me to do something about that!
We would venture ‘overseas’to the Isle of Wight, which genuinely felt like leaving the country. The seaside guesthouse and being vigorously washed in the sink with a scratchy flannel because the shared bathroom seemed to be constantly occupied is a memory that refuses to fade.
She will have done that at Alum Bay. I too filled test tubes of different coloured sand. I think you’re probably right that sand infiltration was more of a problem than flannel quality. Although those flannels put in years of hard work and never seemed to be retired.
My grandmother went to the Isle of Wight! She brought me back a test tube filled with layers of different colored sands: I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with it, but it was regarded as a great honor to receive. Maybe some of the sand had infiltrated that flannel?
Lovely memories, lovely story.
Thank you, Karen!
Those last two paragraphs are brilliant! After the car journey description, I was ready for your holiday and then I remembered, the British weather -- which I too had the good fortune of experiencing for two summers, in Brighton, and in Wales. And then your wish for your parents, oh I do envy you your light touch.
Well, thank you, Anneke! Yes, the British seaside weather - I think that what I feel most compassion for now in my parents is the constant demands of all five of us to go to the beach no matter the weather. There are photographs of us all wrapped to the chin with the wind visibly howling through our hair ... but we were at the seaside, darn it, and the beach was where we were darn well going to go ...
Thank you for this evocative and lovely armchair holiday!
Glad you enjoyed it, Kristi!
Hilarious and feels very familiar, Gabrielle!
You too, huh, Ann? I guess if you've been there you know what it was like ...
Yes and you evoke the ‘back seat of the car’ blues perfectly!
Thank you, Ann!
My childhood was complicated; my parents, shall we say, didn’t get on. We didn’t go on holidays (which, in retrospect, is probably a relief), we did however have 'days out'. A neighbour - with a Fird Pop - took mum and us kids to various seaside resorts. Dad stayed at home.
It was usually Blackpool or Southport - or maybe Fleetwood or New Brighton. (Anybody else remember tge Royal Iris?)
Fleetwood was where somebody told me there was a whale, so I went looking for it. After a while, the family panicked and sent out search parties.
Someone found me and said, not unreasonably, "We've found you."
I was confused, "What?"
"You got lost", they explained.
"I'm not lost", was my smug response "I know where I am!" (I was a pain at a very early age.)
One time, we were going to Scarborough. We stopped in York for a break and went round the Railway Museum and the Castle Museum. By the time we finished it was too late to go to Scarborough and we went home.
As a result, Scarborough became incredibly romantic fir me. The Three Sisters may think Moscow is the ultimate destination, but they should have thought about Scarborough.
I later moved to Hull, so Scarborough became one of my go-to places - all because I didn't get there as a child.
This is a rich and very funny story, Bren! Have you ever written it up in more detail? I'd love to read it ...
Oooh! Thank you! The only time(s) I've written it up has been back in the days when we wrote letters. On paper. With ink. I had a group of friends who would send out stories/letters for mutual amusement. Sadly, they're no longer around - so I might have to start something on here.
(I think the Fleetwood element was included in something which had the title along the lines ‘I was an annoying child’…)
Oh, do, Bren, it's great fun and I'd certainly read you. I remember letters with great fondness. Dear days ...
Following on from a conversation recently - remember them? - I'm thinking about a Christmas one! But as the summer of 1976 is 50 years ago, you may just have prompted me to do something about that!
Very good news, Bren, I'll look forward to reading it!
We would venture ‘overseas’to the Isle of Wight, which genuinely felt like leaving the country. The seaside guesthouse and being vigorously washed in the sink with a scratchy flannel because the shared bathroom seemed to be constantly occupied is a memory that refuses to fade.
She will have done that at Alum Bay. I too filled test tubes of different coloured sand. I think you’re probably right that sand infiltration was more of a problem than flannel quality. Although those flannels put in years of hard work and never seemed to be retired.
My grandmother went to the Isle of Wight! She brought me back a test tube filled with layers of different colored sands: I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with it, but it was regarded as a great honor to receive. Maybe some of the sand had infiltrated that flannel?