Don't
forget my pail and spade!
Fond memories of Summer holidays...
We were one of the lucky families in the 40s and 50s
who could afford to go on summer holidays at the Glasgow Fair Fortnight,
when most factories closed up. It wasn’t because we were well off, far
from it - we were a family of five but my dad always saw a fortnight at
the seaside as a priority and we did without for the rest of the year
to finance it.
We had a large trunk that would be filled with bed-linen and towels. My
mother would work like a Trojan for the week before preparing everything
and would book an extra turn at the local steamie in order to do this.
My dad would pack his primus stove, tent with pegs and poles and extra
old blankets as we never went away on holiday without our tent. We would
try to get as much as possible packed into our trunk, as this was strapped
up and labled and taken to the local railway station and sent of some
time before our departure day and collected on the day we arrived, whatever
our destination.
We always went on holiday wearing our Sunday best-no
matter what the weather. I remember sitting on the steam train on a hot
summers day getting even hotter on the flock seats and wearing my coat,
hat and gloves, my brothers in their blue serge suits and white shirts
- our clothes were bought on the big side to allow for growth because
they had to last a long time and when we grew out of them, they were passed
on.
The day had eventually arrived, the excitement rising by the minute. We
didn’t have far to walk as the train station was in the street where we
stayed, so we always got there some time before the train arrived. We
would sit in the waiting room and view the paintings on the walls and
observe the other holidaymakers as they arrived. The atmosphere was so
carefree - men had to work a 5 ½ day week and this was the only
holidays they would get apart from a day off for New Year, sometimes Christmas.
When the train puffed into the station we would climb up into the compartment
- these would hold about 8 people - carrying our buckets and spades we
climbed onto the seats to place them on the string luggage racks above
our heads along with the luggage. The walls of these too were hung with
paintings of the stop off places on the various rail routes of British
Rail. I would settle down with my holiday sweetie stash to enjoy the journey
and study these as the train sped along, occasionally stopping to hang
my head out of the window - which was opened by lowering a leather strap
and hooking it to an notch - and letting the wind blow the smoke from
the puffing train blow on my face, we never failed to catch cinders in
our eyes.
We saved 6d (2 1/2p) from our pocket money of 7d. each week and trouped
down to the post office to buy a 6d saving stamp each Saturday, which
I would stick carefully into my saving book and watch it mount up as the
weeks passed. By the end of the year I’d have accumulated 26/- (£1.30)
- an absolute fortune to me, and I had a wonderful time spending it. This
was spent on bars of Highland toffee (one of my favourites), Dolly Mixture,
Liquorice comfits, Sherbet dips, Puff Candy, Sweetie Cigarettes and Cinnamon
Sticks, which could be lit up and smoked - this made us feel so grown
up. These and many such like mouth-watering sweeties.
Rothesay
Holidays on the Clyde Riviera
The trunk would be packed up and carried us to the Broomielaw
to board one the of many steamers that would take us ‘doon the watter’
to Rothesay our favourite destination on the Isle of Bute. The pier was
always jammed packed with lots of families excited about going on holiday.
Children were always running around as we walked up the gang plank, so
much so, that the ticket collector was so confused he didn’t know who’s
ticket was for who - some took advantage of this and had a free ride to
kick off their holiday.
Being on a ship was very exciting and the first ½
hour was spent exploring. There where always musicians on board so that
we had a-sing-along as we sailed past some of Scotland’s most beautiful
scenery. We always saved some of our packed lunch (pieces) to feed the
seagulls that would follow the ship all the way down to Rothesay. All
too soon we arrived at Rothesay Pier.
We always stayed in the top end of High Street , where the castle is situated,
not far from the meadows where they held the Bute Highland Games. This
was always an exciting time. They had Pipe Bands who came from not only
Scotland, but from all over the world, to compete. When the games weren’t
on we would come here with our ‘jeelie jaurs’ to catch butterflies.
On rainy days we enjoyed a night out at the pictures
or to the local swimming baths, or visited a large pavillion where there
was entertainment for maw, paw an’ the wanes, or played cards, noughts
and crosses or ‘fill in the boxes’ around the coal fire’. Or we would
rehearse our ‘turns’, using our large holiday trunk as a stage. If sunny,
a trip to the beach - this was a tiny slice of sand wihch was crammed
full of families out to sunbathe, or build sandcastles, or watch the ‘Punch
and Judy’ show on the Promenade beside the beach. We always had great
fun there because they held Talent Competitions every year and we had
some great singers from Glasgow to give us a song, sometimes accompanied
by a dance, or even recite some poetry.
Uncle Phil and Tony were the two Rothesey locals who ran it. The younger
sombre one played the accordion, the other older chattier one was the
compere. They always opened the show with the song ‘how’d ye do everybody,
how’d ye do, this is uncle Phil and Tony singin’ to you, never mind the
weather never mind the rain an long as we’re together, whoops we go again’.
Afterward he’d ask for those who could sing to put up there hands. I didn’t
sing too well and even if I could, would never have had the nerve to appear
in front of the large crowds who would always gather there. Not so my
cousin (aunts and cousins always appeared for a visit on our holidays,
and often stayed for the full fortnight) who wasn’t a much better singer
than myself, but thought she was . She would always dance too - if you
could call it that, and would give a hefty burl to finish off, so-much-so
that one time she fell off the stage, she was such a show off. However,
people adults and children alike where always in holiday mood and no one
ever booed, quite the contrary.
We would often take out a rowing boat. On one occasion we got too near
the paddle steamer coming down the Clyde from Glasgow and if it wasn’t
that my dad and brothers were such strong rowers, we’d have been capsized
by the large waves that were made by the enormous paddles. We children
were all screaming in terror as they rowed like fiends to get out of the
way of the steamer.
We would always visit Ettrick Bay that is on the Isle
of Bute and unlike Rothesay had long sandy beaches where we would sunbathe
and swim. We would ride on the ponies (or I should I say, we were led
around on them) and as there was a carnival at the entrance to the beach
we’d spend time ‘rolling the penny’ or had a turn on some of the rides.
When we were holidaying, we would always take our tent and primus stove
to spend the day there without having to return home for tea (unlike now
we didn’t have breakfast, lunch and dinner, we had breakfast, dinner and
tea and supper time). One very hot summers day my dad decided we should
stay and camp out overnight - the younger children were to return to Rothesay
with my mother - the tent was situated on the grass verge which ran along
the top of the beach, it may have been a scorcher of a day but during
the night the
wind howled and the sea roared and all we had to wear were the clothes
we travelled down in. For me that was a pair of shorts, a blouse and cardigan.
My brother had been sent back with my mother to Rothesay to collect some
blankets, but what he could manage to
carry was not nearly enough for those of us who’d decided to stay overnight.
We spent most of the night shivering, my dad rubbing us down to try and
put some heat into us. We were up with the lark in the morning to walk
to the nearest distant farm to buy some milk. When we returned my dad
had the primus going to greet us with a nice hot cup of tea. It was a
long time before I ever camped again, until we got better equipped that
is.
All too soon our holiday was over. The time flew by
all too quickly, as we packed so much activity into our two weeks holiday.
Port Seaton
We had the usual holiday preparations leading up to
our fortnights holiday. We’d be up early and dressed in our usual Sunday
best , no matter the weather, my brothers in their navy blue serge suits
and white shirts.
In the early years we travelled by train to Edinburgh,
spending a few hours there in the gardens beneath the castle. As a child
it was magical and I would spend ages just gazing at the flower clock,
studying the various flowers the gardeners used to portray a clock, it
even told the correct time!
In later years we got a lift from my dads work mate Geordie who was one
of the few people we knew to own his own car, and my dad realized his
lifeline ambition and bought his own motorbike which he’d take with him.
We would then continue our journey by coach along the coast road. One
of the younger children (my mother ended up with nine) was a bad traveller
and would always be sick on the bus. The driver would have to stop the
bus and the conductress would appear with a spade from somewhere and go
down onto the beach and return with a spade full of sand to cover it.
It never ceased to embarrass my mother.
We stayed at a large holiday camp called ‘Bruce’s Holiday
Camp’. At the entrance to the camp there was a large store which supplied
all our grocery needs and everything else to make for a happy holiday,
like deck chairs and everything you would need for picnics and camping,
pails and spades little plastic windmills on a stick to carry around and
hold up to the wind, kiss-me-quick hats, and toys. In fact it was an Aladdins
Cave.
In the early years we stayed in a caravan that looked like a cross between
a railway carriage and a gypsy caravan. Each caravan was surrounded by
a garden - in our case overgrown with grass and weeds. It was just as
well, we had a garden, as aunts and cousins always followed us on holidays
and in order to give us more room, we would install our tent there. The
kids were moved out of the caravan to make room for the adults. It was
an adventure sleeping there. We slept on mattresses taken from the caravan.
Each morning we would wake up to find the walls of the tent covered with
earwigs, I was always very squeamish of them and would make a quick dive
into the caravan.
As well as the caravans there were huts. These too had
little gardens surrounding them. Some were very pretty with little verandas
and roses arched around the doorways. Some were decorated artistically
with seashells collected from the beach nearby. In later years we graduated
to one of these huts, but I always preferred ‘our caravan’.
We often collected whelks and mussels from the beach and cooked them on
the primus stove in large cooking pots in the garden. We would spend long
hours exploring on the beach. My brothers were very knowlegable about
all the crabs, shellfish and little sea creatures in the little pools
left behind when the tide went out. Or we’d just go for a paddle, a swim
or picnic there.
Water was collected in large enamel pails from wells
dispersed around the camp and toilets were communal. The camp was surrounded
by luscious countryside, so we had the best of both worlds.
Then there was the outdoor swimming pool. We spent a lot of time there,
but it was very cold unless it was an exceptionally hot day. You had to
watch out for the slippery mossy and seaweed covered steps, and the jellyfish
that got into the pool. We had to be careful in case we slipped and cracked
our heads.
Just beyond the pool there was the harbour. The fishermen
would arrive with their catch and my mother would buy her fish - usually
herring. We would carry them home tied together with string and stung
over our shoulders. Beyond this was the fishing village of Port Seaton.
This is where the fishermen and their families stayed. It had a few shops,
grocery, chemist , fish and chips and not much else but it was quaint
and clean and well looked after.
Rainy days, as before were occupied playing dominoes, cards, draughts
and ‘fill in the boxes’ so we never got bored.
As always our fortnights holiday was over all too quickly
and I’d have a heavy heart, mixed with excitement as we packed up our
suitcases and our rock-which was the usual present bought for our friends-as
we prepared for our journey home.Rainy days, as before were occupied playing
dominoes, cards, draughts and ‘fill in the boxes’ so we never got bored.
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