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| 1955 Caravan Holiday camps |
As
a cheerful welcome representative of “Sunny Side Caravan Park”, Natalie
escorted the Phillips family to their regular trailer. So darn cheerful
that Hazel wanted to choke her. When the nubile sweetie
enthusiastically bounced off to greet other campers, Hazel cursed her
with obesity and a jiggly butt.
Jimmy Phillips was already in his swim togs, snagging some biscuits on his way to the brisk northwestern English sea. Running over the rock and pebble beach, Jimmy was the vision of joy.
Husband Roddy had headed to the “Bully Bar” barely after the car door had slammed, and was well into his second pint. Same old, same old.
But, Hazel stood in this worn moldy caravan where her family spent every single summer holiday for the past 15 years, and wished to be under sunny skies, somewhere, anywhere but here.
Her laser eyes mentally scorched and eviscerated every other old campers as they settled in their own mouldy caravan. Do you hate this as much as I do? Where did we go wrong?
Every now and then, she met the eyes of other mothers and communicated the same thoughts they had. Oh, how I hate this. I hate this so much.
Her laser eyes mentally scorched and eviscerated every other old campers as they settled in their own mouldy caravan. Do you hate this as much as I do? Where did we go wrong?
Every now and then, she met the eyes of other mothers and communicated the same thoughts they had. Oh, how I hate this. I hate this so much.
Her
caravan was sandwiched with other caravans in a field of domino
caravans--rusty moldy chipped-paint caravans filled with their own Jimmy
or Roddy people.
Stifling a scream,Hazel pulled a bottle of Jameson from her bag, opened it in a panic, which she glugged down 1/3 of it. Her second bottle was tucked away now behind the biscuit tin.
Stifling a scream,Hazel pulled a bottle of Jameson from her bag, opened it in a panic, which she glugged down 1/3 of it. Her second bottle was tucked away now behind the biscuit tin.
As
sunset folded into dusk, Hazel strolled to the dining hall, where
tea/supper was being served. As the alcohol gave her a warm fuzziness,
Hazel smiled. Same old, same old.
Hazel hoped she had remembered to bring the vodka.
An
old friend Hazel told me about this every summer, putting a smile on
her face but panic and anger in her eyes. God bless her, Hazel managed
to hold her family together during these holidays.
I have never understood this summer ritual. Husbands sit around a fire and exchange stories. Children have a gay old time being children. Women cook, clean, do dishes, and wait on the rest of her family. This is fun? It can be done at home.
ReplyDeleteWomen always do all the work. Picnic, camp outs, church events? All happen because women do it.
DeleteShudder. I am not sure that alcohol would be enough.
ReplyDeleteI would have gone for rum, personally.
DeleteI love it -- so darn ccheerful Hazel wanted to choke her!
ReplyDeleteWe all have known cheerful chippies like her.
DeleteNo wonder the mothers want to run away.
ReplyDeleteThere never seemed to be something that would be entertaining for women. There should have been something besides standard duty.
DeleteI just don't understand why anyone does things they don't want to do. makes no sense to me.. I had no problems when living with parents, we never went on a vacation, no money, got married same thing, no money. My mother used to bring us to Florida twice a year, just her driving and me and my brother riding, we came to stay a week with her mother. not considered a vacation but it was something the 3 of us loved. I spent the week on the screen porch laying in the swing with a book, pushing off with one foot, listening to owls and the coos of doves...
ReplyDeleteIn Ireland of 1980s, women still were in charge of prep and travel arrangements. they just weren't in charge of a major decision like this.
DeleteI know people who take vacations like that and it's a mystery why they continue to do so. Sounds awful to me.
ReplyDeleteSo true. We get locked into traditions like this caravan to hell.
DeleteVery sad. It's too bad she can't go where she wants to go for her vacation.
ReplyDeleteIt was part of the times and culture. In the 50s caravan parks were a new cheaper way to vacation. They are still around, I think.
DeleteHazel should come with me and my friend on our Pretend I'm Dead trips. When they ask where's my socks? pretend I'm dead. What's for dinner? Pretend I'm dead. We travel to the beach. Stay in a nice hotel. No cooking, no cleaning. No stress
ReplyDeleteThat is an awesome idea.
DeleteInteresting story. I used to like Inspector Gently.
ReplyDeleteGod bless.
We enjoyed it too.
Delete