Thank you for the memories – I had almost forgotten about this era in the late 60s to early 70s.
You reminded me of that incredible chairlift at Pwllheli from the camp to the beaches in an incredibly beautiful area.
I also remember developing a desperate crush on a Cockney girl at Clacton at the age of 12…Happy times! That week culminated in an actual murder when some unfortunate was stabbed between the rows of chalets – it made national news at the time. The redcoats did an admirable job of carrying on.
I wonder how modern humans would deal with the endless contests – beauty and otherwise? Many were excruciating, but as you mention, were a crucial step in the development of a budding stage career.
My parents took me to every Butlin’s U.K. camp in the sixties. They went dancing and I was left with the redcoats. I first learned about sexual intercourse from a ‘rough’ child – I was shocked and didn’t believe him. Falling off at Donkey derbys; spending all my pocket money saved for the year on the machines in the arcade – it’s a wonder I never became addicted to gambling. My mum, competing in glamorous mother competitions, desperately seeking acknowledgement of her self-perceived beauty. I loved Butlins.
Funny to see that Labour were snobs even back in the 1940s and actually hated the aspirations of the working class.
Frank McCusker
1 year ago
I agree with the idea of a cheap resort, more than ever relevant, given how bad accommodation costs are. The compulsory socialising with fellow holiday-makers aspect would wreck my head though. I’d just like the cheap digs and facilities, without the fun Nazis on my case. Outside of my family, I can only cope with people in small doses, and my work means I have a surfeit of human contact anyway. My idea of a holiday is to spend more time with my family and to get as far away from other people as possible. Sorry.
You say sorry as if you think you’re exceptional.
It’s pretty common to desire solitude, especially in these times of forced socialising. And as a pursuer of solitude all my life, though not understanding this as a child, being in a crowd (online or physically) is actually a marvellous means of feeling alone, once you realise and accept that’s your preference. Watching people is one of life’s best hobbies.
Hilary Lowson
1 year ago
True. There was 5 of us kids and we too did Filey in ’61. From eldest – teens – to baby it was a most fantastic memorable holiday. Best probably also for my parents who were free of kids from dawn to dusk, seeing us only at meal times or when we waved at them through the glass panels of the pools while they relaxed in the cafe. Amazing for us kids was it was all free – every fairground ride, every session with the Beavers – followed at Christmas with a free book arriving! And I too took part in the talent show telling joke which at six I thought were very funny. (I was a commended runner up – probably for sheer brazen cheek). Snobbery about it was great though. When one of my older sisters made it to university and I told one if her new posh friends about it, he fell about laughing & sister nearly killed me, making me vow never to disclose this dark secret ever again. Oops. But at school it became quite a boast one up on Pontins apparently. The only element we all hated was the piped announcements in our chalet, particularly to ‘rise & shine’. That & having to wear – at 6 – a plastic ID bracelet, but ok when once I got lost.
A whole different world.
CHARLES STANHOPE
1 year ago
It is said that Billy Butlin inspired Adolph & Co, to build the PRORA Holiday Complex on Rugen Island on the Baltic. Stretching for nearly three miles it is sometimes referred to as The Colossus of PRORA, and was intended to be a major feature of the “Strength through Joy” movement.
Sadly WWII got in the way and it was never used.
Last edited 1 year ago by CHARLES STANHOPE
CHARLES STANHOPE
1 year ago
How absolutely classic of that entitled champagne socialist, the late Hugh Gaitskell Esq ( Winchester & Oxford) to make such a condescending and patronising remark as : “Very efficient, organised, pleasure holiday making. Everybody agreed they would not go there!”
What a complete pillock, to lapse into the vernacular.
Christian LeBlanc
1 year ago
From my wife: Most of my friends and family have probably never experienced spending a summer at a British holiday camp. I have – summer of 1986. I was a volunteer underwater archaeologist working on the excavation of the Amsterdam, a Dutch East India ship sunk in shallow water in the English Channel. The divers were housed over the summer at the Hastings Holiday Camp on the English coast, so when we were not mucking about in the Channel, we were participants in the holiday camp lifestyle. Meals were taken in common, and “entertainment” was provided in the evening. I have long forgotten most of the evening shows, save one. It was a bunch of rowdy men dressed in kilts, either drunk or pretending to be, and singing bawdy ditties to the accompaniment of a simple keyboard. The “high point” of the show was these characters frequently mooning the audience in keeping with the lyrics of their songs, lifting their kilts to display obviously fake plastic bottoms! Holiday camps are a world unto themselves!
Christian LeBlanc
1 year ago
I never visited a holiday camp. My first exposure to them was in The Who’s LP ‘Tommy.’ Decades later I was in a Dover pub, and struck up a conversation with a local math professor. I asked if he had ever been to a holiday camp. He lit right up, and told me about his working class childhood in London, and the wonder of holiday camps. He said one of the best things about them was just knowing he’d have 3 square meals every day.
Thank you for the memories – I had almost forgotten about this era in the late 60s to early 70s.
You reminded me of that incredible chairlift at Pwllheli from the camp to the beaches in an incredibly beautiful area.
I also remember developing a desperate crush on a Cockney girl at Clacton at the age of 12…Happy times! That week culminated in an actual murder when some unfortunate was stabbed between the rows of chalets – it made national news at the time. The redcoats did an admirable job of carrying on.
I wonder how modern humans would deal with the endless contests – beauty and otherwise? Many were excruciating, but as you mention, were a crucial step in the development of a budding stage career.
Happy days indeed.
My parents took me to every Butlin’s U.K. camp in the sixties. They went dancing and I was left with the redcoats. I first learned about sexual intercourse from a ‘rough’ child – I was shocked and didn’t believe him. Falling off at Donkey derbys; spending all my pocket money saved for the year on the machines in the arcade – it’s a wonder I never became addicted to gambling. My mum, competing in glamorous mother competitions, desperately seeking acknowledgement of her self-perceived beauty. I loved Butlins.
Funny to see that Labour were snobs even back in the 1940s and actually hated the aspirations of the working class.
I agree with the idea of a cheap resort, more than ever relevant, given how bad accommodation costs are. The compulsory socialising with fellow holiday-makers aspect would wreck my head though. I’d just like the cheap digs and facilities, without the fun Nazis on my case. Outside of my family, I can only cope with people in small doses, and my work means I have a surfeit of human contact anyway. My idea of a holiday is to spend more time with my family and to get as far away from other people as possible. Sorry.
You say sorry as if you think you’re exceptional.
It’s pretty common to desire solitude, especially in these times of forced socialising. And as a pursuer of solitude all my life, though not understanding this as a child, being in a crowd (online or physically) is actually a marvellous means of feeling alone, once you realise and accept that’s your preference. Watching people is one of life’s best hobbies.
True. There was 5 of us kids and we too did Filey in ’61. From eldest – teens – to baby it was a most fantastic memorable holiday. Best probably also for my parents who were free of kids from dawn to dusk, seeing us only at meal times or when we waved at them through the glass panels of the pools while they relaxed in the cafe. Amazing for us kids was it was all free – every fairground ride, every session with the Beavers – followed at Christmas with a free book arriving! And I too took part in the talent show telling joke which at six I thought were very funny. (I was a commended runner up – probably for sheer brazen cheek). Snobbery about it was great though. When one of my older sisters made it to university and I told one if her new posh friends about it, he fell about laughing & sister nearly killed me, making me vow never to disclose this dark secret ever again. Oops. But at school it became quite a boast one up on Pontins apparently. The only element we all hated was the piped announcements in our chalet, particularly to ‘rise & shine’. That & having to wear – at 6 – a plastic ID bracelet, but ok when once I got lost.
A whole different world.
It is said that Billy Butlin inspired Adolph & Co, to build the PRORA Holiday Complex on Rugen Island on the Baltic. Stretching for nearly three miles it is sometimes referred to as The Colossus of PRORA, and was intended to be a major feature of the “Strength through Joy” movement.
Sadly WWII got in the way and it was never used.
How absolutely classic of that entitled champagne socialist, the late Hugh Gaitskell Esq ( Winchester & Oxford) to make such a condescending and patronising remark as : “Very efficient, organised, pleasure holiday making. Everybody agreed they would not go there!”
What a complete pillock, to lapse into the vernacular.
From my wife:
Most of my friends and family have probably never experienced spending a summer at a British holiday camp. I have – summer of 1986. I was a volunteer underwater archaeologist working on the excavation of the Amsterdam, a Dutch East India ship sunk in shallow water in the English Channel. The divers were housed over the summer at the Hastings Holiday Camp on the English coast, so when we were not mucking about in the Channel, we were participants in the holiday camp lifestyle. Meals were taken in common, and “entertainment” was provided in the evening. I have long forgotten most of the evening shows, save one. It was a bunch of rowdy men dressed in kilts, either drunk or pretending to be, and singing bawdy ditties to the accompaniment of a simple keyboard. The “high point” of the show was these characters frequently mooning the audience in keeping with the lyrics of their songs, lifting their kilts to display obviously fake plastic bottoms! Holiday camps are a world unto themselves!
I never visited a holiday camp. My first exposure to them was in The Who’s LP ‘Tommy.’ Decades later I was in a Dover pub, and struck up a conversation with a local math professor. I asked if he had ever been to a holiday camp. He lit right up, and told me about his working class childhood in London, and the wonder of holiday camps. He said one of the best things about them was just knowing he’d have 3 square meals every day.