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It's
been a while since someone sent me a memory,
so I'm happy to say that Claire Beecroft
from Sheffield got in touch, saying that
she started reading WDIAGR? on
maternity leave. 'I had to have it prised
from my hands by my husband when we headed
to the hospital for our daughter's birth.
I've only just finished it (she's 12
weeks old now) as I didn't exactly have
a lot of reading time on my hands at first.
Anyhoo, having found the WDIAGR
website I thought I'd email you some memories
of my own absurdly happy childhood . . .
'My Nan and Grandad (on my dad's side) always
had a caravan as far back as I can remember.
Their first was a tiny two-berth known affectionately
as "the peanut". It was pretty
basic and had gas mantles instead of electric
lights, the shades of which frequently smashed
as they squeezed it throught the narrow
streets of Padstow (where we went every
year). Given that they had to be lit with
a match they were a major fire hazard, especially
given that the peanut was kitted out with
an ultra-flammable bri-nylon interior. Still
we (me, my twin sister and my cousin Martin)
thought it was the best thing ever, a house
on wheels, how cool is that? During the
school holidays Nan and Grandad would take
the 3 of us off of our parent's hands and
head for a few days to nearby Seasalter.
It was all of a 10 minute drive from where
we lived (in Faversham) but to us it was
paradise. Every day was the same. In the
morning we would walk down to a shop on
the seafront and fritter away our 10p daily
pocket money on the pick'n'mix counter.
The shop is called (rather grandly considering
it's pretty much your standard bucket and
spade joint) "The Waldens of Seasalter"
but we only realised this years later. It
sold and re-filled Calor Gas bottles and
had a huge sign on the side of the building
to that effect. Somehow we ended up referring
to the shop as "the Calor Gas"
and still do to this day. We never left
it empty handed when Nan and Grandad were
with us.
'We
then spent the rest of the day playing on
the beach or near the caravan and in the
evening our parents would come down and
we'd all go to the pub, the Ye Olde Sportsman.
Children weren't allowed in the bar but
there was a grubby "conservatory"
and we would all sit in there eating crisps
and drinking coke until the early hours
(i.e: 8pm). It took me a while to get used
to the fizziness of Coke so my Nan would
encourage us to empty sachets of sugar into
it to make it go flat. No wonder we'd be
bouncing of the caravan walls for the
half hour before bedtime . . . I remember
one evening when Martin (who from a young
age was obsessed with air travel) asked
if we 3 kids could go back to the caravan
early to watch Airport 80 on the
tiny black and white portable telly. It
scared the pants off me and my sister (a
package holiday to Lorette De Mar
was on the cards at the time) and even now
I hate flying.
'"The Calor Gas" is still there
and remains unchanged, but the Sportsman
is now a renowned gastropub. My Grandad
is a widower now and sold the caravan (he
goes on Saga coach trips abroad now, making
up for lost time as my Nan wouldn't travel
abroad). Our next door neighbours have just
bought a caravan and we have
the offer of borrowing it anytime, but without
my Nan stood at the stove making us her
signature dish 'egg boakle' (a fried egg
hiding under a piece of fried bread with
a circle cut out where the yoke peeps through)
it wouldn't be the same.'
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