The Mythical City
Story: Memories of the Potters Holidays (1)-clarewhite
by Bob Adams
I remember when the holidays were first changed in 1968 from first Monday in August to June/July. This was because traditionally August was one of the wettest months of the year and also the nights were drawing in. It was also cheaper to go on holiday then.
How different things are today when young children have already visited foreign climes and travelled to many countries as sailors used to do. As a boy in the late forties through to the sixties I can remember the holidays I took with my parents, sister and brother.
We were fortunate because many could not afford to go and the seaside was a treat. A daytrip was all some could manage and they were lucky as their parents had not even managed that. The resorts which we frequented most often were Rhyl, New Brighton and the Mecca of it all, Blackpool.
Blackpool was different. It never closed, it was brash and it cocked a nose to the establishment. Mum and Dad however weren’t struck on Blackpool. “Your money goes too quick there, you’ll be spent up in no time.”
So we went to Fleetwood, just a few miles further North, a fishing town and a very nice place to go for a week or, if you were well off, two weeks. As the holiday drew near, the atmosphere at home changed; get out the old tin trunk to put all our clothes in, no suitcases for us. The trunk was picked up by horse and carriage by British Rail a few days before we went.
It took two trains and we finally arrived itching to be out looking round....
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I remember when the holidays were first changed in 1968 from first Monday in August to June/July. This was because traditionally August was one of the wettest months of the year and also the nights were drawing in. It was also cheaper to go on holiday then.
How different things are today when young children have already visited foreign climes and travelled to many countries as sailors used to do. As a boy in the late forties through to the sixties I can remember the holidays I took with my parents, sister and brother.
We were fortunate because many could not afford to go and the seaside was a treat. A daytrip was all some could manage and they were lucky as their parents had not even managed that. The resorts which we frequented most often were Rhyl, New Brighton and the Mecca of it all, Blackpool.
Blackpool was different. It never closed, it was brash and it cocked a nose to the establishment. Mum and Dad however weren’t struck on Blackpool. “Your money goes too quick there, you’ll be spent up in no time.”
So we went to Fleetwood, just a few miles further North, a fishing town and a very nice place to go for a week or, if you were well off, two weeks. As the holiday drew near, the atmosphere at home changed; get out the old tin trunk to put all our clothes in, no suitcases for us. The trunk was picked up by horse and carriage by British Rail a few days before we went.
It took two trains and we finally arrived itching to be out looking round....
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