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<blockquote data-quote="BillB" data-source="post: 52279" data-attributes="member: 9985"><p>I'm keeping my eye on that *+!^^ autocomplete this time.</p><p>My journeys in my early teen years were mostly on family summer holidays. Our first holiday after the war was in 1949 - a week at Pontin's holiday camp at Sand Bay, Weston-super-Mare. We visited Cheddar Gorge, Wells Cathedral and other beauty spots in the West Country. I fell in love with that area very quickly and still enjoy visiting it if we're passing that way. The next year we went to another Pontin's camp - this time at Bracklesham Bay in Sussex. I know holiday camps have fallen out of fashion now and they were regarded as a "regimented" holiday by those who had never been, but if you didn't have a great deal of money they were excellent value. Three meals a day (good quality meals at that) and entertainment in the evenings. There were other activities if you wanted to join or you could go your own way. As a 12 year old I thought I'd arrived in heaven.</p><p>Once I'd started at the grammar school my mother wouldn't let me take the first week or so of the school off to go hop picking so that part of my life came to an end. My grandmother still went down to Faversham, and sometimes I would cycle there from South London for a long weekend.</p><p>Later in the '50s, my underwater exploration ambitions took me into training to become a scuba diver. After initial training in the swimming pool I moved on to what was called then Laughing Water, a lake with a restaurant overlooking it. It is now called The Inn on the Lake and can be found on the M2. Having achieved the required results in the lake, I was invited to join a group on a diving holiday in Guernsey. This sounded great to me so without hesitation I said yes.</p><p>What a wonderful fortnight that turned out to be. 1959 was one of those beautiful summers that you remember all your life. We had balmy weather every single day and the diving was fantastic. Towards the end of the second week I made three dives just south of St Peter Port which set my personal best. 145 feet. I was enchanted by the sea bed there, covered in scallops which took off like flying castanets when my shadow passed over them. The rocks were thickly grown with sea siphons and gorgonia, a fan-like coral growth. As there wasn't a decompression chamber handy, we had to make extra sure that we didn't overstay our time at those depths, and I survived to proudly enter the details of those dives into my log book.</p><p>A few months before we left for Guernsey I had met a girl I quickly came to think was the love of my life. Unfortunately, she didn't feel the same about me and went back to her previous boyfriend. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as, left to my own devices, I asked out a pretty girl who was a friend of my mate's fiancee. A month or so of her company showed me that she was a very lovable person and as it turns out we'll be celebrating our 48th wedding anniversary in November this year.</p><p>Shortly after returning from Guernsey I received notice that I had to go for my National Service medical. I passed A1, and I knew that that dread envelope would be plopping through the letterbox in a few weeks' time.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BillB, post: 52279, member: 9985"] I'm keeping my eye on that *+!^^ autocomplete this time. My journeys in my early teen years were mostly on family summer holidays. Our first holiday after the war was in 1949 - a week at Pontin's holiday camp at Sand Bay, Weston-super-Mare. We visited Cheddar Gorge, Wells Cathedral and other beauty spots in the West Country. I fell in love with that area very quickly and still enjoy visiting it if we're passing that way. The next year we went to another Pontin's camp - this time at Bracklesham Bay in Sussex. I know holiday camps have fallen out of fashion now and they were regarded as a "regimented" holiday by those who had never been, but if you didn't have a great deal of money they were excellent value. Three meals a day (good quality meals at that) and entertainment in the evenings. There were other activities if you wanted to join or you could go your own way. As a 12 year old I thought I'd arrived in heaven. Once I'd started at the grammar school my mother wouldn't let me take the first week or so of the school off to go hop picking so that part of my life came to an end. My grandmother still went down to Faversham, and sometimes I would cycle there from South London for a long weekend. Later in the '50s, my underwater exploration ambitions took me into training to become a scuba diver. After initial training in the swimming pool I moved on to what was called then Laughing Water, a lake with a restaurant overlooking it. It is now called The Inn on the Lake and can be found on the M2. Having achieved the required results in the lake, I was invited to join a group on a diving holiday in Guernsey. This sounded great to me so without hesitation I said yes. What a wonderful fortnight that turned out to be. 1959 was one of those beautiful summers that you remember all your life. We had balmy weather every single day and the diving was fantastic. Towards the end of the second week I made three dives just south of St Peter Port which set my personal best. 145 feet. I was enchanted by the sea bed there, covered in scallops which took off like flying castanets when my shadow passed over them. The rocks were thickly grown with sea siphons and gorgonia, a fan-like coral growth. As there wasn't a decompression chamber handy, we had to make extra sure that we didn't overstay our time at those depths, and I survived to proudly enter the details of those dives into my log book. A few months before we left for Guernsey I had met a girl I quickly came to think was the love of my life. Unfortunately, she didn't feel the same about me and went back to her previous boyfriend. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as, left to my own devices, I asked out a pretty girl who was a friend of my mate's fiancee. A month or so of her company showed me that she was a very lovable person and as it turns out we'll be celebrating our 48th wedding anniversary in November this year. Shortly after returning from Guernsey I received notice that I had to go for my National Service medical. I passed A1, and I knew that that dread envelope would be plopping through the letterbox in a few weeks' time. [/QUOTE]
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