Yes, the trip to Filey. You did ask.
Hard to believe my own story, but it's true.
Suppose it was the end of the '60's/early '70's.
We used to hire a caravan at 'Primrose Valley' for our annual hols.
This time we must have invited Aunt Betty, Uncle Jack and cousin Sue.
That leaves Dad, Mum, my brother and me = 7 of us, plus our Alsatian Tina!
No one had any money, so I suppose Dad thought we'd save some by all piling in together!
Life was a lot simpler back then. You just did things. Well, we did. It's what we called normal.
So the combo consisted of a plunger A1O hitched to a double adult Busmar sidecar.
And it was a heap.
Anyway, off we went, singing ''Blue Bells are blue, 'cos Blue Bells are blue''. As you did.
The dog was stuffed in the tiny foot well with me. Mum sat up front with my brother on her lap. Aunty Betty sat in back with Sue on her lap. Dad driving, Jack on pillion.
And a bottle of pop to go round.
Don't know if you've ever ridden in a sidecar. You're about a foot from the engine.
Yelling was the order of the day.
I was always the first to be sick.
Of course we used to take adventures such as these in our stride.
Yorkshire Grit I think it was called?
I do recall Betty encouraging us to lean to the inside of bends, to do what we could to help dad's endless fight with the handlebars.
He wore a flat cap but never reversed it. So when a gust of wind blew it off he'd simply turn the plot around to collect it.
It was during one of these retrievals that the chain went the first time.
When a chain goes bang, protesting at this ridiculous load, with a bit of 3 ply between you, then it's no surprise we all screamed together!
Still, it was a welcome opportunity to take a pee....along with the dog.
Dad always had a massive oily canvas bag full of tools in the boot (yes). Included were various odd lengths of chain; entirely worn out. So, like a good 'un, he rolled up his sleeves and got on with the job.
While we sat on the grass verge in some posh village staring back at the locals staring at us. The sun always seemed to shine back then.
In a Jiffy, as they used to say, we were on our way.
Until it happened again. But by then we were seasoned campaigners, full of the Brotherhood of Man'. After all, we were on HOLIDAY!
And so we were. LIVING THE LIFE.
We piled into a 4 berth caravan, spent our days on the beach with a boiled egg and a bottle of milk for lunch, while Dad and Jack took the dog onto the brig and collected winkles all day. We'd take them back, boil them, each be given a pin and had them for tea.
Being the oldest, 10? I was in charge of us kids while the adults went out for their piss-ups in the evenings. But not before I'd been instructed how to light the mantle in the gas lamp.
We were lucky and happy. Because they were HAPPY TIMES.
Lest you forget.
I of course retain copyright and am open to offers for the film rights too.
