Some of my life’s holiday and travel memories.
My earliest memories of holidays are from the Isle of Wight and Swanage when I was a kid. We used to go to Bembridge and stay in a caravan park on the top of the cliffs. Every night my Dad would say lets watch for smugglers and we sat there looking for lights on boats. I remember the Needles and I have a photo of my brother and I at Black gang Chine, its a very vague memory but the caravan park is still there. Swanage was another caravan park. I remember the beach at Studland Bay, my Mum and Dad went there every day and I wanted to go to Sandbanks. The seaweed was everywhere at Studland and my Dad used to carry me out across the rocks to the water. I do remember those days being sunny and warm though, these days it seems a rarity.
One day a log floated by and touched my Dad, he thought it was a shark and never swam so fast…
I remember having to take a big penny to the toilets and I remember the inland caravan site. We had one of those balsa wood planes that you would up the elastic and let it fly. It landed on someone else caravan perfectly and we took ages to get it back down. I was bought a Dinky Die Cast Hawker Harrier Jet and it was the nuts at that time. On the first day though I broke the nose cone off and had to hide it every time Dad come near. Ive felt guilty about that ever since. We went to the Tank Museum in Bovington and I loved that, Ive loved Tanks ever since. I´d love to own one one day. I wanna go back some day.
It´s such a shame cameras were pretty naff in those days, I´d love to have a collection of photos to post. We had Instamatic things that well, looking back were just rubbish. Mind you that feeling of anticipation and excitement when your photos came back from the chemist was great. You don’t get that much these days, if at all, the results are instant. And instantly disappointing as they fade too quickly…
I stand corrected but all this was prior to 1973….I´ll update as the memories come back..
1973
In this year I was 11 years old and Woodcraft Folk was our club of choice. Tuesday evenings in the Hall at Holy Cross, Quendon Drive School following the closure of Quaker Lane school in the Town, what a loss that was really. Made way for a ring road round Sun Street as the main thoroughfare prepared to become pedestrianised a few years later. A car park appeared and some new houses. Until recently you could still still some of the old walls where the toilets in the playground used to be, a walk through there used to bring memories back. I think the walls have finally gone now.
It was the end of Junior School and my great time in Mr Harris´s class. Oh I wish I had got to say goodbye, the man was the best teacher anyone could have, ask anyone who was lucky enough to have been taught by the Welshman. The Woodcraft annual camp overlapped the end of term and so I never saw my last few days at Junior school. I often wish I had, I wanted all my stuff from my desk, especially my blue rough book that we used to use. I so wish I had the memories that contained now. Consigned to the school bin and long gone since. I never ever saw Jack Harris again and often think of him when reminiscing about old school days. He used to live in Rue De St Lawrence in Waltham Abbey, and even these days when I cut through if I´m ever there I always look at the house and wonder if he is at home. Of course, Mr Harris has long since left us but it´s a nice thought to have anyway. I´d love to find his plot and thank him for my education.
So it was my first holiday away from my parents and in all fairness a very young age looking back. I wonder if they still allow that these days?
We were having two weeks up at Coleman’s Lane in Nazeing. OK it wasn’t that far away in reality but it might as well been on the moon. When you are young everything seems bigger and farther than it is, these days pretty much everything is within easy reach, including the other side of the world! I shared a tent with Steve Oake. Steve wasn’t really a friend of mine, a year older than me, and I can´t remember how we got shacked up but there we were, we got on and Steve was cool. A bit like an older brother looking after me. Every day they used have this thing called Wapenshaw, you had to drag everything out of your tent and lay it all out on the groundsheet for inspection. Mine looked like an Army collection as I had Army Blankets, Rucksacks, Canteens and all sorts. We never laid our Sheath Knives out though. We didn’t want Norman, the camp leader to see those. At night they used to lower the camp flag in another ceremony much like the last post. The silence cry. We used to have to go what looked like a giant black bin liner to get water to wash in every morning and I don’t recall anything like showers and stuff. Food was served in a giant marquee and every night there was some sort of games or entertainment going on. One night there was a band and one of the German Woodcraft visitors was mustard on the drums showing off to everyone. Everyone had duty on food but one day a group of us during free time decided to walk down the fields and go to the lakes nearby. Of course when you are young you don’t see any danger and it was a laugh skipping through the cornfield. That is until we heard Norman´s voice booming out to get back up the hill to the camp. About 12 of us had washing up and cooking double duties that week.
Another quite vivid memory was the Treasure Hunt. Groups were set off to follow clues set all around the Nazeing fields and Forest, an event that should have taken a few hours at least. The idea was to follow the clues and at the end find a piece of wood that had the signatures of all the camp leaders written on it in felt pen. Steve´s brother Mark was with me and our group somehow disappeared and we were left stranded. In our youthful way we thought sod it and sat down on a tree near to the camp. As we wondered what to do and could see others in the distance I looked down under where I was sitting and found the Treasure!!! It was a square of white wood with all the sig´s on it! Well we didn’t have to worry about the search now. We boldly marched back into camp and gave it in declaring ourselves winners. The details are vague now but they knew we should have been out for a couple of hours at least and there was a commotion about it. I recall saying, “what was we supposed to do, leave it there?”
The repercussions were not very good. There was a large contingent of German Woodcraft who had traveled over for the camp and they were non too pleased that the treasure hunt had been ruined. I was probably lucky as they blamed Mark. Later that night, Steve told me the Germans had got hold of Mark and beat him up out of sight and the English were not happy. I remember having the piece of wood and throwing it in the latrine sh*t.
Midway through was sports day and parents were allowed to visit. Mum and Dad cam up and I balled my eyes out. Until then I had been ok, but realised then that I had missed them. Sports Day in the sunshine was great and everyone was as happy as you could be in 1973. On other nights we sang songs around the camp fire and we got a trip to Harlow Outdoor Pool which again seemed like moons away. It was only a couple of miles up the road. It´s not there now, house’s I think.
That really was my first holiday I can remember in any detail. The tent was white. Nazeing camp site is first on my bucket list.
1974
It´s not my intention to list my holidays or trips year by year but it seems like common sense to do so right now as the past is coming back in somewhat chronological order. 74 the year of Glam rock and we were all wearing high waist band trousers and jeans, flares were the norm and those haircuts were pretty gruesome to say the least. I was now at Secondary School and in truth I loved every minute of it. Well almost every minute, Maths was a nightmare. I was placed in Group 1, Mr Harbers class. Pete Harbers class. Supposedly the top group. I just didn’t get it, X = Y, Curved graphs and logarithms. Even simple fractions with a common denominator. None of this made any sense to me, and quite frankly it still doesn’t to this day. When do you ever go into Tesco´s and buy a bag of Tangents and Cosines? More about Pete Harber later.
In the 1st year King Harold as we were, Mr Lamb was our form teacher. A bearded man who left at the end of the season and Ive never ever seen since, much like loads of others I suppose. I think he went to work in China, or did he work in China before King Harold? Anyway, this year the school holiday was Butlins Minehead! Wow, what an adventure that would be. It was half way across the world and if you have ever been on that winding road it still is. The whole year was going in April 1974. We had to travel by train and so it was an adventure from the off! I remember lugging my case through Waltham Cross train station all the way to Paddington with the teachers frantically checking numbers and helping overloaded girls with suitcases up and down stairs.
We traveled to Taunton with great shouts when we went through tunnels, anyone who had a crush on someone trying to get a sneak 12 year old´s kiss in the dark before the sun beamed through the windows as the train entered the light. In Taunton we were placed on a fleet of Green Double Decker buses and you could hear the other buses cheering, as we were, when Minehead came in sight. It was the start of a holiday of a lifetime. The Pig and Whistle Bar where we had to meet and choose our activities, the big playing field where we took on all the other schools and beat them at football, the Beach combing, the discos dancing to the Bay City Rollers and Slade, getting close up with Susan Macklin, even getting to mix with the teachers in the “adult” bar. We had a great set of teachers in those days, Mr Lamb was there, Mrs Black, Mr Bata, Mr Cristmas, Mr Swann, loads and of of course our Head Teacher Mr Black. Mr Black has become one of my closest pals in later life so I´ll leave him for elsewhere in my blogs. All in all we had a great form year.
I was shacked up with class mate Kevin Stock and we had a bunk bed and a double. I was on top bunk, Kev had the double. One night we could see and hear people running up and down outside so we opened the door to look. Next thing we heard a teacher shouting and Mark Wakelin, a close friend from the same street as me darted in and dashed into the bottom bunk. We could see torch lights flashing around and approaching. We hid under the covers. How they knew we don’t know but adults do that don’t they and bang the door was being rapped upon.
Mark was unceremoniously pulled from the bunk, despite there being enough room, and marched to the boiler room at the end of the row of chalets. The next day we learned that he had spent the night in there with illustrious company. The likes of Densham, Jewitt, Welsh, Jackson and others of the lad elk that each year possessed. Far from punishment apparently they all had a right giggle and the giant boiler kept them warm all night. Imagine these days getting a punishment like that!
Everyone remembers Mr Bata capsizing in his Kayak on the boating lake but rumour has it Densham and Jewitt were also party to that one! Mr Lamb smashed a chalet window knocking to wake kids up in the morning, that must have frightened the hell out of them! One day I signed up to go to Porlock Weir and we had a great day out, Mr Black had driven the school minibus down, the funny colour Green Bedford that we had at the time and about 12 of us had a cool day. We were on one of the boat slopes and seeing who could jump off the highest place into the sand below. The Macklin twins were like stunt girls and were jumping from what seemed enormous heights leaving deep footprints in the sand. They were in the Girl Guides I guess so were pretty hardy. I made excuses and went to the souvenir shop. Later on in the week I signed up for the mystery tour and once again we boarded the Green Minibus. Mr Black was again the driver. Blow me if I wasn’t moaning as we went round the corner. Old Blacky was only on his way back to Porlock Weir. Me being me I clocked on and started to winge. “Sir, we have already been there” “Shut up Doog*, I like it there and that’s where we are going” Somehow that day wasn’t quite the same as before. I found a big stone and scratched on it AP loves JW. I took it back and gave it to Albert Paris who put it outside his chalet door. He was seeing Julie Wright of sorts. I told em I found it like that just to make me feel like I´d done something different that day. Was complete balls but hey ho, I was a kid.
In our rooms we had grey speakers and every morning Radio Butlins would boom out with the days activities, no chance of a lay in with that on the wall. Yes it really was Hi De Hi style. Marks speaker didn’t work so one day I got on the top bunk of his room and fixed the wires. He told me he almost shit himself the next morning. In the evenings they used to let different kids from schools go on air for half an hour and play some tunes and say hello to their mates. Being into music at the time, my brother being a mobile DJ, Paul Taylor and I went to the studios for an audition on behalf of our school. It was proper old fashioned set up behind a big glass plate so everyone could see in. It was pretty much like the set of an old episode of Star Trek with flashing bulbs and all sorts. All yellow if memory serves me correct. Paul passed easily and I was told that my voice wasn’t clear enough and I was as distraught as an 11 year old kid could be. Paul went back in though and pleaded with them to let me do it as everyone in the school would be waiting to hear me. They called me back in and said that I would have to speak clearer and that Paul would do 5 o clock till quarter past and I could do 5.15 till 5.30. I was over the moon and we went on air. As soon as Paul had done his 15 minutes he ran back to his chalet to listen in. I had my 15 minutes of fame, but never got to hear any of it. How I would love to have a recording of that these days. Paul said it was well cool and loads of the other kids listened and even the teachers spoke to me later that night.
We went beach combing one day and Mark and I decided to skip going back to the camp so we hung back on the disused railway track and trotted off on our own around Minehead for a while. Once again imagine that! Well as the camp was also pretty much like a P.O.W camp it woulda looked pretty odd, two school kids wandering through the main gate. We decided to break in and hope that we were not being looked for. Around the outside we found a fence hanging over a small ditch and we scurried under the fence and tried to look normal. It was pretty hard. Mark had these White jeans that had red and blue stripes down them and they were covered in that black greasy mud you get in ditches. I was just a mess as usual.
On the last day there was a big meet in the theater to say goodbye and at breakfast we all grabbed the eggs and decided we were gonna throw them at the stage and the other schools, we were King Harold after all! In those days we all had the Green Parkas and my eggs were in my top breast pocket. We went to the theater to say the goodbyes and listen to the hosts say ta ta. I leant over a balcony and I stunk of eggs all the way back to Paddington. Serves me right. No one threw any eggs that day.
The big tunes for me that send this one flooding back are Terry Jacks, Seasons in the Sun and Slade, Everyday. Great times, great holidays. If I could bring one back it would be this one. I have a diary somewhere in the loft, don’t be surprised if I update this chapter soon.
1975
I don’t remember any more family holidays after I started Senior School in 1973, seems strange now as it was years ago and Senior School doesn’t seem to be the right terminology at all. Hardly senior are you at 11 years of age. A while back I drove past my old school and its now called the King Harold Academy. If you would have said they were going to call it that in 35 years time you would have been laughed at. It was a rough school in the early days and you had to stand up for yourself. Heads down toilets for initiation wasn’t a myth. The visiting schools with Rugby and Football also had to stand up for themselves too. When Stewards came to town from Harlow they got it big time and vice verse when we went there. But we all loved it. The holiday this year was Mersea Island in Essex. A camping trip in the Eastern part of the Island. Once again the Green Mini Bus was in use and some 200 kids arrived loving every minute of it. Not all in the bus.
We were allocated these big green tents and placed with if my memory serves me right 7 others, so 8 in a tent. We were then given areas and told to pitch up. Mark Wakelin, my best friend and I set about the tent and basically told the others to get lost. Mark and I were camping fans so we set the tent up to perfection, no gaps, properly pegged and watertight. Paul Croxford came round sniffing for pegs and tried to nick some of ours and I got into an altercation with him. Before I knew it I was in Blackies tent threatened with the slipper. As soon as I got in there, Dave said “fuck off Doog and don´t let me see you again” As kids we loved how Mr Black treated us and we respected him tremendously. ¨Croc¨was sadly later to lose his life in a parachute accident whilst in the TA.
Well about that tent, once they were all up we were all summoned to the main marquee and the teachers stated all the tents on the left were allocated to the girls all the boys on the right! Mark and I were fuming and I went straight to Blackie who looked at me and I went straight back again. We were shoved in a proper rotten job, depressions in the ground and all sorts. We were fuming. Mark and I picked the best spots inside and told the rest to get lost. I cant remember who was with us except Russell Smith and Mark “Blakey”Richards.
Overall it was a great holiday, all sorts of games, hide and seek, treasure hunt, trip to the local Town, no mystery tours and right on the beach.
At night we used to sneak out and try and get in the stores tent and it used to be funny seeing big Lawrence Greenhall crawling around trying to do the same. We had beans everywhere, god knows why. Lawrence stuffed his face with biscuits galore. The Army came to stay at one point and we were chucking dummy grenades over nets, I remember thinking how heavy they were. We played British Bulldog in the fields and it was great.
Something that always plays on my mind when I look back was one particular night when we had free time. A group of us all managed to get into the main building which had a large hall much like the assembly hall at King Harold School. Now Sheath Knives were all the range in those days and we all carried them around. They were for camping and most certainly not for violence. Mark and I used them all the time over fields cutting trees, making traps and all sorts of stuff. On this ill fated night the knives came out and we were all soon throwing them into the wooden parquet flooring taking big chunks out of it. Then we heard piano sounds, and I wont name them, but one of our group was walking along the keyboard singing and kicking off the black keys. It was awful but nothing compared to what another person did who shall also remain nameless. There was a giant white screen for films hanging down the stage and this person thought they were Errol Flynn (not that we would have known who that was at that age) and they dived at the screen and plowed their sheath knife into it and slid down ripping a gigantic hole, just like you’ve seen in the pirate films.
I exited quick and the next day was the worst. There had been a camp planned with the Army boys and we were all set to go the other side of the fields when all hell broke loose. It was the quickest round up ever of schoolkids. Dave Black was on the war path. First thing was a call for whoever had a knife to hand them in, in a confiscation order. Very soon a giant pile appeared in front of him, it seemed like every kid had one! Then it was charge time and those involved were to step forward. The odd thing was if no one stepped forward I wonder what would have happened. When your that age though these things don’t unfold like that and about 12 of us stepped forward. We were all banned from the field trip and put on report. I felt awful about it and we had really let Dave down. I still to this day have no idea what the consequences were for the school. It was shameful.
Nevertheless it was a great holiday.
1976
Like I said, no family holidays to recall so it´s back to school days and this year was one of my favourites, then again they all were! We were off to Wales, sunny Abercrave as we called it, Abercraf as its called in those parts. If I recall it was somewhere near Neath and Swansea and was an outdoor pursuits center. Well to be fair it really wasn’t that sunny but who cares when your 13 years old. I had a great cagoule that I got from the Army Cadets so I was fine. The green mini bus was really racking up the miles now, Blackie was teaching all the lads Rugby songs on the way down and we didn’t have a care in the world. Everyday, like the other holidays activities were laid on and at the start of the week I got on a pony trek. I probably didn’t appreciate it at the time but the Welsh countryside was fantastic and I recall us getting the horses, ponies, could have been dinosaurs at that age, to go faster. What we thought was a gallop was probably a brisk walk! We trotted to a lovely water setting which I can still picture now and Mr Stevens took all the lads into a pub. naturally we couldn’t drink but we sat and listened to tales from some old Welsh locals. We all loved it. We found out later that poor Jane Macklin from my class had got on a pony with a brand new saddle and slipped straight off. She was back at the camp with both arms in plaster that night, broken wrists. Poor Jane, first day as well. Another day we were all on an assault course around the center and like Mersey, the local Army boys were on hand to put us through our paces. It was just mud and water with hoops and jumps around this lake, freezing cold and pretty, well naff to be honest. One part near the end we climbed out of a water crossing and Blackie started going mad. He thought we were gonna throw his wife Joanne in, and was bleating about contact lenses. No one had even said anything!
This lake was quite interesting, it was quite big and had a long metal cable strung across it. Those who wanted to were told to go to the other side and the tree it was tethered to. Here the Army boys had a simple metal plate with two handles on either side placed over the cable. There was a further two pieces of rope attached. The idea was to loop hands through the rope, hang on for dear life and slide across the lake! One by one kids were taking their lives in their own hands as they were told to hold on tight and under no circumstance let go over the water!! Like you were going to drop 50 feet into a lake about 6 foot deep!! At the other end 2 soldiers held onto a rope, that was attached by a running hook like climbers have. They were sliding down the mud trying to stop kids hitting the big knot at the end and flying into the trees! Now at the time this was considered great fun, imagine Health and Safety these days, everyone would be arrested.
We went pot holing until Lawrence Greenhall got stuck and we had to turn back and we were climbing up rock faces that seemed to be like the Matterhorn but were probably 20 foot max…Julie Powell had women’s problems half way up at that age and the whole camp knew.
Albert Paris and I trekked around all the local beauty spots and waterfalls with the girls and had to carry the rucksacks for the privilege, they were great times.
On that holiday Ian Densham taught me how to play Crib, Mark Wakelin smashed all the glasses when we tried out a Ouija board one night and I got told to go back to bed in the middle of the night when I was in terrible pain with toothache. Blackie took us to the local pub without the other teachers knowing and I got a bollocking for going off Orienteering on me own. Well I was an Army Cadet at the time.
Wales, 1976…loved it
1977
That damn minibus was in action again, this time talking about 12 of our year up to the Isle of Skye in Scotland, of course Blackie was driving it. There was no mainstream school holiday this year and the trip to Scotland was relatively expensive hence only a mini bus full taking the trip. I was gutted not to have gone and watched loads of programs on the place and still take an interest whenever it pops up. I heard lots about the trip at the time but this year for me it was not to be. I was lucky enough to go on a camping weekend visiting Slimbridge on the River Severn though. Slimbridge is Peter Scotts wildfowl center and has amazing birds in the sanctuary. Teacher Ray Surridge organised this one and it was great, like all the others. Memories are vague however except for when we climbed over a fence into a nearby field. I touched another fence and felt a massive thump on my shoulder. I turned around to shout at my mates, don’t push me and no one was in sight for ten yards. Turned out it was an electric fence keeping cows in! Mr Surridge organised another trip to Slimbridge and I badly wanted to go but as I had already gone he said no. I practically begged him saying I loved birds and really wanted to go again. He replied by telling me to do a project on the feathered friends and if it was good enough he would let me. I went on the trip.
I left school in 1978 and in all honesty in that 5th year I hardly did any work and was off as much as I could be, taking every opportunity to dodge school hours. I used to have all sorts of excuses after Christmas and they really didn’t miss me. We did do outdoor pursuits though which I enjoyed and Tuesday´s we would go sailing at Broxbourne and do stuff like that. We used to go in that minibus I told you about. I only showed up for a few exams and yes I regret it all now, I really could have done so much better and should have. I just didn’t get most things and was content to mess about whenever possible. Apart from Maths which I found hard everything else seemed to be too easy so I just didn’t show interest like I should have. I struggled to gain motivation at school and its a problem that persists to this day. I needed someone to push me and mentor me along and it just wasn’t there.
TBC