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Silver Travel Book Club - Book of the Month - June 2019

What wonderful memories people have. I never had holidays as a child. I was dumped on a step grandmother in Eire for weeks who thought reading the Judy(donated by a kindly neighbour)was a sin worthy of confession. My first travel experience was in 1969 when following enlisting in the British Army ,and a stint in London, I flew to Singapore. The heat when the plane doors opened gave me a warm embrace as I stepped into paradise.

My first holiday abroad was in the 60’s (1969), a belated – 2 years after – honeymoon to Mallorca,
and brought a love of everything ‘foreign’. Since that auspicious beginning, I have visited a total
of 132 countries/islands, and hopefully more to come.

Albox, Costa Almeria, Spain

Most of my holiday memories from the sixties are of visiting my father’s family in northern France, staying with his uncle and aunt on a farm, collecting eggs from the barn, running around the fields and playing with my French cousins, who I still visit 50 – 60 years later. Carefree childhood days.

I remember my holiday to Blanes in Spain in the 1966 just before I had my third child. We travelled through France in a very small Fiat (my husband did all the driving) and crossing the border into Spain 2 days later was magical. We set up at a campsite opposite the beach and we’re soon befriended by a family who were on holiday from Barcelona – Pedro and Josephina who were with their grown up children and grandchildren. Their tent was well equipped whilst we had a single burner and a kettle. Life was simpler then- the children played all day and although they couldn’t speak the same language – it didn’t matter. My now 58 year old daughter still talks about it sometime. So nice to remember the happy times.

Whilst technically alive in the 1960s, I’m too young to personally remember the decade. However I loved my parents and siblings stories on holidaying during the 60s and adore the evocative family holiday photos from the said decade. I do remember a later trip to France and my Mum commenting on seeing the Eiffel Tower that it looked rusty!


MySentimentsExactlyI was a child in the 60s and have fond memories of going on holiday with my family to Weymouth where the sea is safe to swim in and there is a nice beach.

GypsyWanderer wrote:

13:01 12-Jun-19

Yes @cruzeroqueen 1. I am female

Albox, Costa Almeria, Spain

Yes @cruzeroqueen 1. I am female.

Exeter. UK.

Enjoyed your reminisces, @GypsyWanderer – especially about clothes and ‘crushes’ (If I wasn’t
sure before, I’ve ‘pegged’ you as female, but don’t mind either way – lol!)

Albox, Costa Almeria, Spain

The 1960s. What a wonderful decade that took me through my teen years, leaving junior school and into secondary, then college. The music, Beetles, Stones, The Who and my favourite, Manfred Man, (a crush on Paul Jones). And what about The Man From Uncle? Swoon. The clothes and the rows over my first mini skirt and bikini, then the hippy era, long skirts and flowers in my hair. A wonderful time and a time when friends and I used to hitch hike up to the Lake District to youth hostel, walk and have fun. An innocent time.

It was also the era when I, then 15, first traveled solo, from Skipton to Paris. My parents saw me off on the overnight coach from Bradford to Victoria coach station London, where I was to pick up the coach to a remote airport in the south for the flight to a remote airport in France, and the coach trip to Paris where I was to be met by my penpal, Chantel Coulard,and her family. I knew nothing about this sort of travel and didn’t know there was a Skyways Coach Air terminal at Victoria coach station so I looked for a coach going to, or near, my airport. It was leaving the same time as my ticket stated and I had two hours to kill.

Had there been a young man travelling down from Bradford with me or did I meet him at Victoria? I don’t remember but we spent a very pleasant two hours wandering on the embankment before returning to Victoria. That is when I discovered my mistake. No, I did not have a ticket for that coach and was pointed in the right direction.

The Skyway’s check in were not impressed. I was given a lecture but allowed to board the next coach, three hours later. A message would be sent to inform the Coulards. At last I was on my way with no more mishaps, and enjoyed the magic of the first flight on my own and travelling on foreign land, seeing French trees, grass, cows. I had to pinch myself. It was all real and soon I would be in Paris for an amazing adventure.

Since then I have travelled extensively and enjoyed many solo trips. Maybe that trip was where I caught the travel bug. I hope it never leaves me.

Exeter. UK.
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