My earliest holiday was when we went to stay with my mother's family when I was little. I must have been about 6 because I am pretty sure my sister was there, to show off to the family. We spent the whole summer there, they had a farm, and two dogs who I pretty much followed around, and at the end of the lane was a small beach. It did not rain. Running around fields to neighboring cottages with a local kid about the same age who I would play with on the beach (and the dogs of course)

The car came with us of course, we had traveled up on the overnight ferry to Portsmouth and had to race to catch the 'Monster Boat'.

So where did we go, with all the glorious sunshine and expanses of green fields, sandy beaches and friendly locals?

Ireland

West Cork to be precise. Went back there a couple of years ago, and it was still the same. Well except the weather

Enjoying the references to the Isle of Wight where I live and Julie may not now recognise Blackgang as that part of the coast is prone to erosion and there have been a number of landslips over the years. Rocking caravans, I believe, remain a feature of IoW camp sites! LOL. My own introduction to the IoW was as a camper when a pal and I were planning a mammoth camping trip around Europe in the late 1960's. The major flaw in the plan that we had only one night under canvas between us and that was me some 8/9 years earlier in the cubs! We survived - and did the trip. But earliest memories of family holidays as a kid involve trips to Selsey Bill where friends had a holiday home made out old railway carriages which we borrowed for a week. A trip marred only by my childhood predilection to travel sickness and a journey interrupted by frequent stops which probably had a bearing on our other favored destination to family friends in Yorkshire where we could safely travel by train....

My first memory is staying in a caravan at Walton-on-the-Naze when I was about 10 and Dad taking me to a local fish stall and buying me my first oyster.  I have loved them even since.

Sylvia

Hi Julie,

Your post had me laughing out loud!  No wonder it was your last holiday with your uncle and aunt...

The first holiday I really remember was a trip to the Isle of Man when I was five - the trams (some horse drawn), steam trains and the scenery were magical to me.  Also we saw Prince Charles as he drove past and he stopped the car to say hello to us, which really impressed us (especially my dad!).

All the best,

Bob

Hello,

My first holiday memory was when I was about 8.  My uncle and his wife took me on holiday to the Isle of Wight. I think this was also my last time on holiday with them. Whilst away I got my arm stuck in the turnstile at Black Gang Chine and they very nearly had to send for the fire brigade.  Then sitting on the beach, I decided to tell everyone that I loved my caravan holiday but the only problem was that the caravan kept rocking at night.  My uncle looked very embarrassed and now tells everyone about it and embarrasses me.

Regards Julie

When I was a child in Kenya, we did not have family holidays as such but during school holidays my older sister and I used to either go to Nakuru or Thompson Falls to stay with my uncles, aunts and cousins. We children used to have lots of fun playing silly games. We used to love to look at the shop window displays during Christmas - one particular display had a lovely train doing round and round surrounded by fake snow and trees and twinkling lights! I also remember walking all the way down to Thompson Falls and then having to be lifted off a big rock when I got a bit frightened. Those were the days....!

Jaya

Jaya

Before the age of 8, it was Devon- Gran and Grandad or Cornwall- Nan and Gramps for all holidays. When I was 8 we went to Dublin via Holyhead for 2 weeks. A little caravan park at Bettystown was mostly rain and little else. Visited Newry and a farm that some friends of my father owned. First and last time that I saw my Dad milk a cow. Last time I saw Dublin- 1965, about time I went back 🙂 

Jan

my schoolhood holidays that i remember was as we were born and bread in Liverpool our annual holidays were always to Rhyl or Skegness in a caravan and driving there in Dad's old yellow Cortina, i recall losing my barings and wandering into someone else's caravan, they all looked the same, and on another ocassion i slid down some soiley bank having to be pulled back up being as clumsy as i were

Dave

My first holiday memory comes from when I was around 6 or 7, on our first Holiday to Norfolk. Mum & Dad picked us up from school on a Friday with the car packed and loaded with food and clothes. Both the dog and the cat were loose in the back and off we went. We were city children so staying in a cottage with an outdoor toilet and having to pump the water up from a well was a major adventure for us.

I can clearly remember stopping just outside Norwich for Fish & Chips, which we ate out of the paper in the back of the car with little wooden forks. But my favorite memory from that first holiday was befriending the local farmer, who took a shine to me (I was cute at that age) and he let me help him collect the eggs from his chickens. I was both amazed and disgusted at having to put my hand under a chicken’s bottom to get the eggs… before that I don’t think I ever realised where eggs came from…

We often went to Ireland (visiting family) for holidays, don't remember much about the holidays themselves, typical bucket and spade type and we were near the seaside resort of Bray. What I do remember best is the ferry from Holyhead, horrible smelly boat and how seasick I always was. Was relieved when we stopped going and went instead (by train) to exotic destinations such as Barmouth (Wales), Scarborough, Torquay, Llandudno etc.