As I prepare for a 5-day holiday in a caravan in
Cleethorpes, Doris Day is playing in the background and I’m singing “Que Sera
Sera” at the top of my voice. I am packing wellies and waterproofs and sun hats
and sun cream knowing that no matter what the weather we are going to have a
great time.
My husband has always struggled to understand my love of
Cleethorpes. To him Cleethorpes isn’t even a seaside town. He says it as an
estuary where the Humber meets the North Sea and I know he’s right but I ignore
his comments about the tide always being out and turn up the volume on my blue tooth
speaker!
Then in between packing and singing along to my Cleethorpes
play list a programme came on the TV called “Holiday of My Lifetime” We paused
a while and listened as Gyles Brandreth explained to Len Goodman why
Broadstairs in Kent was his “Holiday of His Lifetime.” He explained that it was
a family tradition to visit that particular seaside town as his father and
grandfather before him had holidayed there. They went to the same beach,
enjoyed the same Punch and Judy Show and spent their evenings listening to the
same musicians at the same Spa Pavilion.
That was it! Holidaying in Cleethorpes was our family
tradition! That’s why Cleethorpes was, and still is, my happy place!
All of our family holidayed there. This included my grandparents, my aunties and
my uncles, my cousins and even my neighbours. They had saved all year to go to
the same place and more often than not the rest of the village were there too
because that's when families went away. All the pits shut down for the annual two-week break and we
all travelled to the seaside resorts of Scarborough, Skegness, Blackpool,
Bridlington or Cleethorpes.
I remember the excitement of arriving at the caravan site
and getting of the bus at end of the road and walking to the check in. Each of
us carrying a bag as wheels on suitcases hadn’t been invented. Our caravan had no
mains toilet; no shower and no mains water. The washing facilities were usually
a walk away and full of spiders! None of that bothered us. We unpacked our
suitcases and planned our evening.
We used to get ready in our new holiday clothes to get the
club about 5 o clock so that we could reserve the best seats for the cheesy entertainment
that would start at about 7 o’ clock. While the adults played Bingo we would
spend an hour on the slots with our 1ps and 2ps that our Nan had been saving
all year!
We knew the site so well that we could wander around safely
and meet all our friends at their caravans and play on the swings till dark.
On good days we flew kites on the beach and if it rained we
played cards and dominoes in the caravan.
There was a circus nearby and the highlight of the week was
seeing the clowns and the acrobats in the circus ring and walking back with a
bag of chips to share.
It seems that at no point did I have an argument with my
sisters over the colour of the spade I was digging with. I also don't recall
having to wait my turn to fly the one kite that mum bought for us. The see saw
only seated two of us but for some reason we never argued over who would sit on
it and who would go on the neighbouring swing. The sea must have been warm and
the sand never stuck to my skin. There could not have been any insects or wasps
as we ate our food because I only remember being happy on the beach and in the
park!
This, of course, is all down to the power of a photographic
image. All these happy memories are displayed in a collage that's hangs on my
office wall. The camera didn't capture the tantrums and the arguments. There
must have been some but I only remember the happy times.
Flying a
kite on the beach, pedalling on a 4 man Kart with my mum and my two sisters and
playing in the playground on the caravan site with my Uncle Bri wearing a
cowboy hat!
I wonder
if one day my photographs will trigger similar memories for my grandchildren
and I hope that Ella Mae will not remember the time her mum shouted because she
was sitting in a neighbouring caravan while we were searching the site thinking
she was lost or injured. Hopefully they will not remember the melt down that
occurred over the colour of the frisbee or the size of the bucket. Maybe they
will forget the long, hot walk to the beach for a paddle only to find the sea
was so far out paddling was not an option!
I hope
instead they will sit with their children or grandchildren and remember searching
for fairies amongst the daisies near the caravan, learning to play clock
patience and solitaire with a deck of cards, using a washing up bowl to play
sink or swim with feathers and pebbles and having a tea party with an imaginary
elf and a big friendly giant!
In the 5 days at Cleethorpes with four of my grandchildren there
have been no laptops, tablets or phones just plain old imagination. We have
been on a bear hunt I’ve told the story of the ugly duckling whilst feeding the
swans and we’ve been on a treasure hunt and a dinosaur trail all from the
comfort of a caravan in Cleethorpes.
As I leave the caravan site at Cleethorpes, Neil Diamond
comes on the radio. I turn up the volume and sing along to “Sweet Caroline”
It was my granddad’s favourite song especially when sung by
my Uncle Bri. It is still our family song. I look to the sky and know that mum
has been enjoying our holiday in Cleethorpes with us. Memories come flooding
back of good times spent at that same caravan site more than 50 years ago and I
realise that I have been making those same memories with my grandchildren. Memories
that remind me why Cleethorpes will always be my happy place!
