As a kid you just blinked as seaside holidays flew by in a swelter of sand-gets-everywhere bliss.
Though photographs of grown-ups wrapped against the elements while kids turn blue
in swimmies (and an occasional tank top) record that days were not so halcyon, it must
have been that way. Does anyone have any childhood memories of ever feeling cold
on a beach?
As a kid you knew that crazy golf without a hole featuring a windmill was... well, crazy.
A joyous landmark, a signifier of top quality course design. Prouder than the rest of the
tortured and tormenting architecture, gaily painted yet relentlessly turning, turning with
the power to make or break a round. A brooding presence four holes, three holes,
two holes away. Little accuracy required, just timing. It should have been so easy...
As a kid you took a dim view of vanilla ice cream. Needing a flake, it still paled next to something
with chocolate and strawberry swirls. And in competition with a lolly; multi-colours and
maybe a card in the wrapper, vanilla was just plain plain. It could have been so different.
If the cone had been dipped in chocolate, if the cone held some novelty gift...
Why is the sound of rain on a caravan roof so emotive? As a kid you'd wake up and that was the
sound of disappointment. You couldn't see out until you'd wiped a hole in the misted
windows but you knew your day would hold a less-than-expectant drive, wiping holes
in more misted windows, to some indoor "attraction". And bickering and fish and chips
in the car with the wipers going looking out at flat grey sea.