I fear for the future of kids today... without 70s camping holidays how will they develop a sense of humour...? The world can be divided into three camps... those who like camping... those who prefer caravans ... & normal people. My brother likes camping, my friends Johnny Geoff & Jeff like camping ... unfortunately my father loved camping
They proselytise it’s virtues “It’s the great outdoors ... doesn’t it make you proud to be Scottish?’
‘Look Dave ... I know you’re getting a hard time off Juanita but there’s no point taking it out on us’
Actually I can see the appeal of wild camping in the Scottish wilderness. Is that what we did? ... fuck no. We drove drove the length of the nation in an Austin 1100*... a feeble motor further crippled by the addition of a trailer. It was a Polski Fiat 124 equivalent... a Zhiguili.
Sensible Edinburgh residents who felt the call of the canvas made the short trip to the Borders, The Kingdom of Fife or the Trossachs, more adventurous would drive a couple of hours more to the Cairngorms or Highlands.
We drove all the the way from Scotland to the Isle of Wight... we were practically in France. One year we attempted to conquer the peaks of Devon ... but we don’t talk about that expedition... we lost good men on that mission ... over Slapton Sands? I don’t think I’ll ever get over Slapton Sands
Despite heading South for many days we were still trapped on the island, with its variable weather. Wet & we got bored, sunny & we got burned.... & I’ll no speak of the terrible winds... but only say that poor Ruth, wretched from the gales & in a desperate moment of deep despair scratched out the S from dear Ma’s scrap book
~
In summary ... days of being cooked in a plastic car only to be sunburnt & soaked at journey’s end... the smell of camomile lotion still gives me Vietnam flashbacks
I wouldn’t say we were a dysfunctional family ... but we sometimes struggled to function in a five bed, two bath house in a bland estate at the foot of the Pentland Hills. Later we moved into a larger house in the centre of Edinburgh ... I’m still not sure if this was our decision or if the neighbours had requested that we leave
So the idea that a relaxing vacation would be to miniaturise this family unit; shrink the kitchen, outsource the toilet ... pack it up & take it cross country in a crap car (further disabled with a box on wheels attached) was certifiable lunacy
The car journeys alone were merry hell; ... think Steve McQueen in the cooler in the Great Escape... Alec Guinness in Bridge on the River Kwai ... James Franco in 27 hours ... luxury
And when either the geriatric Austin or a middle aged parent overheated retribution was swift & violent. As the youngest of three I was inevitably in the middle of the back seat. Despite Juanita’s degree in Mathematics she failed to calculate that if you whack your trio in a percussive fashion with the AA map book .. the smallest in the centre is statistically receiving double the punishment. All three of us now drink to borderline AA levels ... is it any wonder...?
And the tent bit itself? The pegs, the poles, the ropes (lines?) the gas bottles ... it’s too painful to recall the paraphernalia. So I won’t
The best bit about camping holidays ... getting home again
After a few weeks of weeks of temporary shelter & ersatz nourishment in a middle class refugee camp with my siblings, I could almost face the return to school. Not with joy obviously, weary resignation best describes the feeling. Even confronting the known horror** of Miss Heatly in Primary Five was possible
I’ll never forget Scouse Neil at Saatchis returning from a fortnight in Spain staying in lovely apartment
“The thought of coming back here... I cried on the plane mate... I cried on the plane”
That’s a holiday
*Might have been 1300cc ... Uncle Ian would know ... & it may have been pimped a bit when it threw a crank shaft or something in the Borders & got a new engine. Ruth showed the compassion she would later demonstrate as a Nurse. She scared the shit out of me with horror stories of our dear father not returning from the dark rainy night when he ventured out in search of an AA call box
**One of the many design faults of being the youngest is that you are made cruelly aware of the terrors that await you at school. You are given years of advance warning to develop phobias about your anxieties. Miss Heatly was evil incarnate, luckily I avoided Miss Ridley who was considered worse
Full disclosure ... One year we went to the Mull of Kintyre. For the first time we packed in the days before & left at dawn. We even breakfasted in a real restaurant on the famous kippers at Loch Fyne. Father celebrated the occasion by setting fire to the menu by reading it over a candle. We were organised for once & even enjoyed better transport. A brand new second hand Volvo.
It was less stress all round. Did we learn from this? Of course not. But luckily granny died, was spread on Anfield & left us enough cash to move house & upgrade to renting farmhouses
