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Post by Moose on Oct 9, 2015 18:06:30 GMT
we didn't go on holiday all that much when I was a kid - four kids made it an expensive business - but maybe once every two or three years. The first holiday I remember was to Scarborough. I must have been about three - four? - and so my sisters weren't born. I can remember very little about it other than that my brother and I had an argument about who got the top bunk - I won - and that we went up in some weird vertical train (funicular or something? ) that frightened me. I've got a very, very dim memory that there might have been a caravan involved - I know we did have a caravan for a while - and also a memory of my brother getting lost and a nice couple finding him and bringing him home. I am not sure that that actually happened though - I might be getting confused with a story I read in a book at the time.
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Post by Miisa on Oct 9, 2015 19:14:34 GMT
I remember going to Legoland with my parents for my 7th birthday; a special treat as I had two older sisters and a new baby sister, and I never got my parents to myself.
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Post by Moose on Oct 9, 2015 19:22:22 GMT
I've never been to a Legoland. Probably too old to fully appreciate it now
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Post by Deleted on Oct 9, 2015 19:47:24 GMT
Our first holiday wasn't good, it went wrong. It was in Switzerland and we were going to sleep in the van, but the boards my dad had cut to make beds didn't fit. So we had to drive back late at night. The one after that was in Austria and nicer. Then we went to the island Ruegen and then we spent the holidays at a place in the north-east of Germany, near Rostock, where my parents had friends. They became the godparents of one of their daughters. We went to the North Sea twice. The second time was bad because it had rained so much that at one camp site, the van and the caravan sank deeply into the mud. That summer, we drove back the next day to spend our holidays in North-Rhine Westfalia at our favourite campsite, not far from where my father grew up. We loved it there. We went to Bavaria two or three times which was like being abroad because of the way they speak there. Our best holidays were in Canada when I was 17. Going there with such a big family was quite a challenge, but we loved it and loved meeting all our Canadian relatives, especially our cousins.
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Post by Moose on Oct 10, 2015 17:34:39 GMT
North Sea? where is that? (I mean I know where it is but what bit?)
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Post by JoeP on Oct 10, 2015 17:44:44 GMT
We did a lot of camping.
Going to France might have been one of the earliest, but it could have been going to Druidston near St Davids in Juju's corner of Wales. We camped in a farmer's field with no water or electricity. I think the field did have cows.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2015 23:43:13 GMT
My father never wanted to go to France since he didn't speak French.
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Post by juju on Oct 11, 2015 9:21:51 GMT
One of the first I remember was staying in a campervan in Weymouth on the south coast of England (my aunty lived in Bridport close by, so my mum liked to visit that area). I'm saying 'campervan' but it was actually a converted Bedford van (ie just a van, really) with some beds in and probably some sort of stove? I don't remember anything else in there though. My sister and I would have been about 4 and 5, and thought it was a great adventure. I think my mum may have considered it otherwise...
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Post by tangent on Oct 11, 2015 12:46:59 GMT
My little sister was born when I was 5½ and was duly packed off to my grandparent's house for a few days. I loved it, it was like a wonderful holiday. But the first holiday we has as a famly was in Bournmouth, when I was eight. It was brilliant, even though I did get lost on the beach on the second day.
Money was tight in the early 1950s because Britain was recovering from WWII and that might have been why we didn't have a holiday as a family until then. The following year, we went to the Isle of Man. The ferry crossing was very rough and it rained all week so we didn't enjoy it much.
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Post by ProdigalAlan on Oct 12, 2015 17:50:37 GMT
We rented a small ( very small ! ) caravan at Chapel-St-Leonard's on the chilly east coast of England near Skegness. I must have been six and Ian should have been five. We stayed for a week. It used calor gas lighting, which smelled wonderful. We went on the beach every day and tried to fly tissue paper kites. We wore 'jelly bean' shoes which I've hated ever since. It was great.
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Post by Moose on Oct 13, 2015 21:31:14 GMT
I've got a vague feeling that I've been to Sgekky but I can't for the life of me think when it would be .. it could be actually that it is the holiday I am thinking of and I've got the name confused with Scarborough.
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Post by Kye on Oct 13, 2015 21:51:34 GMT
We didn't have a car and were not financially able to go on an actual holiday when I was young, except to visit relatives. I suppose my first actual holiday was in my 20's with my first husband.
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Post by raspberrybullets on Oct 14, 2015 10:37:23 GMT
When we were escaping communist Czechoslovakia we "holidayed" in Yugoslavia for a week or so before heading for Austria. I remember that, especially as I had a traumatic experience with a caterpillar. Other than that I suppose our next holiday was to Adelaide for a few days to visit some family friends, when I was maybe 6.
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Post by JoeP on Oct 14, 2015 17:15:05 GMT
especially as I had a traumatic experience with a caterpillar. You can't just say that and leave it! Details?
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Post by Moose on Oct 14, 2015 20:56:47 GMT
How traumatised was the caterpillar? May we hear its side?
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Post by whollygoats on Oct 21, 2015 15:34:59 GMT
My earliest memory, fractured as it is, is of a camping trip to Wallowa Lake in the northeastern corner of Oregon. I was four or five years old. I think it is still memorable because, while we were there, on holiday, I learned to tie my shoes myself. I was inordinately proud of that accomplishment.
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Post by raspberrybullets on Oct 25, 2015 9:56:00 GMT
especially as I had a traumatic experience with a caterpillar. You can't just say that and leave it! Details? Ha! Nothing very exciting happeed. I just remember standing on the stairs that led up to the place we were staying and I had my hand on the railing. And then a big, fat, fuzzy caterpillar crawled onto my arm and freaked me out. I had caterpillar nightmares a few years after that.
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Post by JoeP on Oct 25, 2015 12:56:54 GMT
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Post by Moose on Oct 25, 2015 21:16:23 GMT
Ooooooh! the memories!
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Post by raspberrybullets on Oct 28, 2015 9:14:11 GMT
That however, was one of my fave books of that age.
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