Given that last year’s holidays were a washout thanks to my hamfistedness, general incompetence and a smattering of bad luck, we’re playing it safe this year.
When I was a kid, my dad took us to Rhosneigr on Anglesey. My memories are slightly dim as it is pretty distant in the past but his motivations are burnt into family legend. Displaying the sense of frugality that has been common to Carpenters down the generations he successfully identified Britain’s Cheapest Campsite.
The reason was simple. On one side of the site – literally over the hedge – was a traintrack. A traintrack for Holyhead. Holyhead being the departure point for the overnight ferry to Dublin. Consequently a fully laden train would thunder past the site every half hour throughout the night.
On the other side of the campsite was an American air base. 1 mile of tarmac that stopped a few yards short of the campsite and played host to a variety of jet aircraft which began their noisy forays into Welsh airspace at 6am sharp to play Top Gun and buzz the tower.
The toilet cubicle was a weird concrete structure that was evidentally designed for dwarves as the ceiling was around neck height on the averagely sized gentleman, causing spinal injuries for anyone over 6ft who might need an urgent poo.
And yet, weirdly, having considered things like boating holidays (can’t even drive a car, much less a boat) and holiday parks (£450 FOR 3 NIGHTS?????) we’ve decided to head to Rhosneigr ourselves this year.
Firstly, it’s cheap – and my dad’s blood runs deep in my veins. Secondly, it’s a long way from the plastic seafronts and electronic gee-gaws of the normal resorts. In a couple of years when the kids know their own minds I suspect we’re going to find ourselves stood around arcades and at the foot of rollercoasters watching them burning their own inheritance money. So while they’re young enough to be satisfied with the simple pleasures of sand, sea and the occasional ice cream they’re going to find themselves in some of Britain’s least likely holiday resorts.
Don’t forget the mentally disturbing forage around east anglia and the joys that Sea Palling can bring!!!