Holidays: Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside

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Sylvia Webb, of Chellaston, aged about six, on a donkey at Skegness

Sylvia Webb, of Chellaston, aged about six, on holiday at Skegness

AT this time of the year, when families with very small children are jetting off for a fortnight in the sizzling sun abroad, I can’t help but think how times have changed since my childhood days. Today’s children will grow old never having known the simple joys in life.

My parents weren’t holiday types, so the few holidays I did get were with my friend and her parents and even day trips were few and far between; so just imagine my excitement when I heard those words: “We’re going to the seaside tomorrow.”

At the age of about six, I had my first ever trip to the seaside – a day at Skegness.

Travelling in those days was usually by bus or train as not many families owned cars. It was a long journey by bus to the seaside, taking up half the day. On reaching our destination, the first port of call was the beach shop to buy a bucket and spade and a pack of those little flags for sticking in sand castles.

It was a serious business building sand castles – the sand had to be just right, otherwise the castle would collapse.

Then it was time for a paddle. Can anyone remember how far out the sea was in those days? I am seen in the photograph standing at the water’s edge, clutching a half-eaten apple.

I remember clearly that the dress I was wearing was bright green. It had white cuffs and collar, and braiding down the front. I felt I was “the bee’s knees”, but unfortunately it didn’t look quite so nice tucked in while paddling. My mother bought ribbons to match each of my dresses. She took great care in tying the ribbons in a bow like the one you see in the photo.

A day trip to Skegness wasn’t complete without that “magical donkey ride”. Didn’t we just love those wonderful creatures with such placid natures. Each one had a name displayed on its saddle and a sort of cow bell, or should I say “donkey bell” around its neck which jangled as they trotted to and fro up the beach.

In the photo (right), I am on a donkey, ready to set off, looking very pleased with myself, resembling a Mexican in my big hat.

When this photo was shown round the family, one member said: “Which one is the donkey?” Fifty-four years later, I still titter when I think of this.

Another outing which sticks in my mind is a day trip to Bridlington with my brother, Dennis, and his wife, Frances. I slept at their house the night before so we could make an early start and, again, it was a very long journey by bus but I was so excited that I don’t remember being bored while travelling.

I think I could count on one hand the amount of holidays I had as a child, but I don’t consider myself any worse off. I recall one holiday I spent with my friend and her parents at Ilam in Derbyshire where we stayed in a very antiquated caravan. Old caravans always had a fusty smell about them but I soon learned that this smell was associated with happy holidays.

Ilam was a big adventure for us. Each morning we were sent to a cottage in the village to fetch milk for the day. The man at the cottage kept the milk in one of those big churns which stood by the garden gate. He used to transfer it into our jug using a big ladle. Such simple errands as these brought sheer delight to us. A bit further along was a small garage where the bus company, Warrington’s, was based. Fifty years later, I still see their buses in the Ashbourne area, which is a reminder of my holiday in Ilam.

I have visited the area many times since then and enjoy reliving those happy times which have filled my mind and heart with such simple, yet pleasurable, memories.

Three cheers for the 1950s when flying abroad was unheard of, unless you were emigrating, of course.

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