English Seaside Resort
 

Great Yarmouth to be specific.

It's in Norfolk, and is on the extreme East of the country.
Norfolk has its etmology as North Folk, as opposed to Suffolk and along the same lines as Essex (East) Wessex (West - although only in comparison) and Sussex.

If you're looking at a map, go as far right as you can, then up a bit. You'll probably find Great Yarmouth.

Now, the only overseas seaside resorts I've been to have been colonised (not literally) by the British. This is about a working town, on the coast, in England, which also caters for holiday makers. And this is my personal spin, which is staying in a Holiday Camp about a mile out of town, called Vauxhall Holiday Park.

We first went when I was about 9 I think. Prior to that we stayed at boarding-houses, now called Bed & Breakfast (then known as Room & Board from the medieval phrase, when food was literally laid out on a board).

It's generally a good site, town is walkable, there's two BIG supermarkets in walking distance (the camp shop is small and expensive) and the things that are free are bloody good. There's a lot you have to pay for, and the extras would cost a fortune if you have demanding children. But then I guess if your children are demanding you'd spend a fortune anyway!

The indoor and outdoor pool are free, as is organised entertainment during the day and in the clubhouse in the evenings. And the Adventure Playground which has a fantastic zipwire. I envied. ETA there are free sports and activities for children during the day, and plenty of mini-playgrounds. We barely left those as children.

So. Time for some pics I guess.
I now wish I'd taken more, but I was in a bit of a sulk. My bad.

Pic one - one of the corridors in the complex. I think the ladies in front are going to swim, but they might be going to shower - I don't remember what time of day I took it.

Pic two - the Sports Bar. Air Hockey, Darts and Pool (all paid for) as well as a couple of fruit machines and sports on the TV. The quietest bar on the park, so we went there.

looks nice

So. Why were those ladies walking around in their towels?
They may have been going to the spa (wrong direction though) or more likely the pool. Or it could be that they were going to the shower block. Even more unlikely as they don't have bags.

Vauxhall is a full-on camping site. Not many people here have RVs. But they do have caravans, caravans with awnings and tents. None of which have proper washing and flushing facilities. So Vauxhall have toilet blocks and shower blocks. Which might give some of you The Fear (from one direction or the other!) but they are bloody amazing. They claim to clean them once an hour - and I believe it - they are spotless. Dani & Limey know I am a bit twitchy about sharing bathroom facilities. Nothing to do with germ-fear, just I think if I can take my smells and thrashing about (hair-washing) elsewhere then I free up the facilities for everyone else.

Also, I can create a bit of a mess when I have bright hair colours. It was lovely to take myself away, with my own (washable towel) and not think about the destruction I might be wreaking on tiles or mortar. And as it turned out there was nothing that could not be rinsed off.

OMG I LOVED my showers. HUGE L-shaped cubicle with a hook and a slatted seat beyond the super-serious-warm-spray. I wore flip-flops, as years ago my Mum saw a turd float past in the gutter that takes off the shower water. That was in Italy, but some things just stick in your head. And it felt SO kinky - being naked in what is really a public place (yes you are behind a locked door) and only wearing footwear while cleaning your treasures...

Okay, so I can't match pics to this encounter. I took none of me in the deluge wearing only flip-flops. So instead you have a shot of a really creepy performer. I mean - he must have approved this photo as being likely to pull people in?!

And the second pic is greedy seagulls on our walk into town.

Beach pics.
For three days it was Typical Robinson Family Weather.
Which means it's what I grew up with.

Gt Yarmouth is like the little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead
When she was good, she was very very, good
When she was bad she was a cold drizzly bitch....

Beautiful beaches, strong wind off the sea.
Bracing sea air.
And when I say bracing, I mean it will make your teeth chatter when you're a youngling.
Or an old 'un.
I persevered with strappy tops, despite Mum's horror.
I did not shrivel up and die, I loved it.

Two shots of the beach au naturel.

Great Yarmouth is not a young place.
So it has old buildings.

Leisureland.
And detail.
If you can't make it out, it's The Arcade - 1902.

There are still donkeys on English beaches!
Yay!

Maximim weight of passengers, 8 stone (112lb)
I was just too close to want to risk it...

They seemed happy and well-cared-for.

Bar pics. Well, it happens.
The 'rents and me sitting in the indoor bowling centre.

Mum & Dad were just too cold to walk home without stopping to warm up.
I was loving it. Note the disparity in clothing.

More Yarmouth architectural detail.
Just a public toilet. But lovely tiling and details.

Given the sea air, both Mum & Dad had to stop regularly.
They were both very impressed with the facilities.
When I was a child you had to pay, and Mum's insistence on not letting the door close (which would mean an extra penny) probably led to my insistence of privacy when... well, you know.

Although it turns out I refused to go to the toilet in the boarding house when we first went on holiday to Yarmouth, and had to go across the road to the public toilets. On being told this story (quite recently) all I can remember being afraid of is the dangerously heavy doors in the Pay-For toilets, and the fear that they would shut, meaning I was wasting money, or being trapped; at this remove I'm not sure which fear was foremost.

Pic two shows the empty beach, and the attempt to draw people in.

I'm happy for you! Looks like you had a blast!

The English at play.

We walked past this group of people on the seafront.
After we'd passed I said to Mum that I'd have LOVED to take their photo, but I was just too close to be polite about it. They had rented out two beach huts, and grouped together under a series of umbrellas, well tethered against the wind. When we walked past they were drinking something hot out of a flask (my guess is tea) and trying to read flapping papers.

All I have is a distance shot, but I say Here's To You, Ahab! (ref to waiting)
In the background is the defunct Winter Gardens.
Even deserted, it is a gorgeous structure, but it turns out that this is the best shot I have of it.
Imagine if you will - there are plants running wild inside, and saplings where my father tried to perfect skating backwards to attract the girls.

The next pic is a lad making the most of being the first on the beach. Lonely.
I cropped out his bald-headed tattooed Daddy - simply because I didn't ask his permission to take the photo. He was so obviously proud of his boy though.
I might already have said, but Yarmouth was full of hands-on Dads. It was lovely to see. Because these were working class Dads, like mine.

A brief comic aside.
I did not know that we (the English) had an unholy obsession with peas until I came to the Cellar.
Now I see it everywhere.

Detail of menu to show that everyone gets peas, but also the prices of seaside meals.
And if you've made it this far you're probably committed.
Or should be.

Next pic is one I took especially for you.
Yes, I mean YOU.
Because even when I don't love you, I can't stop thinking about you.

Oh, it's executive!


(A bit of NSFW language)

Lots of Peas on that menu !!!

Except with the peazza.

:smack: imona go play poker now. with peas. i mean chips. :D

Re: Beach pics, post #4:

Is that a chain link fence between the beach and the water?

Also, the wide, completely deserted beach is kinda eerie. Like in a post-apocalyptic way.

Really enjoyed the pics, Sundae!

No. Are you looking at the wind turbines out to sea?
It's a picture that doesn't stand up to zooming I'm afraid, but if that's what you mean then they are a long way out - they're about 200 feet tall!

One of the things Dad did not mind spending money on was Crazy Golf.
He and Mum have a long-standing competition, which has been waged all over the world, but especially in Yarmouth. Dad is a good golfer. He can't afford to play any more, but always challenged his brother Charlie to a match at out local council run 9 hole course when he came to visit. Charlie is dead now, and the Pitch & Putt closed around the same time, so Dad relishes the chance to compete with a club in his hand. Mum's more like me. Hit and miss. With sudden flares of brilliance, and the occasional flukey hole-in-one.

Dad won all three games we played.

We went to Pirate's Cove on the Front. Best course I've ever played, really inventive layout, lots of obstacles. But we started at hole 12, because Mum was feeling ill and had sat outside. Dad was worried about her feeling cold and couldn't remember if she had any money on her to get a cup of tea. So we ducked under the ropes to jump the queue at hole 1 and only played 6. The chap behind the desk asked us if we wanted to go back and play the rest (I guess I stood out on the CCTV?) but we were quite happy to leave. Mum recovered instantly. Hmmmmm.

We also played on the Arnold Palmer course. It was nowhere near as much fun as I remembered. It's really basic. But then I did play there 35 years ago - we didn't have much to divert us in those days!

And finally we played on the course in the camp.
This was somewhere between the two. Great theming, but some quite basic holes. Oh and I fell into the bushes (sober, with flat shoes on - I just backed up too far and lost my footing on a piece of stone coping. Mum's reaction? "Oh you silly cow!" before actually checking I was okay) which might have coloured my views.

As you can see the sun came out that afternoon (Wednesday)

not my kinda place ( water slides, etc... beans on toast .... sorry ) but thanks for the pics.

Some more of Yarmouth's buildings.
The Empire (1911)
and cropped from a larger shot, the old Hippodrome (behind the Circus Circus amusement arcade awith the Arnold Palmer course in the foreground).

Sundae, .. I just noticed your location...........what part of Bucks you from?

The other Hippodrome (!)
Next to Harry Ramsden's.
I don't actually rate their chips all that highly - they're cheaper and better from the market. And anyway, if they're careless enough to let a ship crash into their restaurant I don't think I'll be trusting them with my dinner.

And me.
In a typical seaside pose.

Grynch, I get what you're saying.
For me it's a return to childhood - I love the seaside, but I do know many people would run away in horror from that kind of holiday.

I'm from Aylesbury, although I was away for years.
I work in Bierton and used to live in Quainton.
What part of Bucks do you know?

I'm a yank but mrs. G grew up just outside of High Wycombe and her brother stills lives there (lane end )

mrs. also hates the motorway so when we visit we fly into Luton ... drive to Dunstable, over the top road to Tring... down to Berkhamstead ( friends there also ) Chesham and down to HWycombe

usually with a couple pub stops to ease my nerves about driving on the wrong side of the road ;) ( ok, ok.. any excuse really )

and I spent about 6 painful hours once trying to get off the magic roundabout at Hemel H...

It's weird seeing a beach during the day with no one on it. That just doesn't happen here. Even in the cooler climates, but around my area, people go swimming all year round.

I know it well. My ex husband came from Berko, an ex -boyfriend lived just outside Dunstable, I've flown from Luton more than once and I used to live in Aston Clinton, which is nearer Tring than Aylesbury (at least the end that I lived in).
The world - it is small.

The North Sea is cold, with a capital C.O.L.D.
Even at the height of summer the most you will see is people wading.

But, yes - I was surprised that more people hadn't ventured onto the beach. It's a large one, so people do tend to get "lost" in the space. I can only guess it was a combination of being reasonably early (before lunch), the first week of the summer holidays, a windy day - see below - and it came after three quite chilly days so people wouldn't have factored going on the beach into their plans until they were confident of the weather.

It's always windy in Yarmouth. Well, it's the seaside.
Totally gratuitous shot of me me me, showing the wind blowing.

And Mum, safe from the wind on a pub balcony, relaxed for once ;)

p.s.... nice hair :)

Just because the sun ain't shining...
We came to the beach. We're going to enjoy it.

I'm mixing my days up now - the above pics were taken on Thursday, when the sun came out.
Those below are from earlier in the week.
It reminded me so much of our holidays when I was younger.

And my favourite ever pub.
I have never been inside it (can't now, it's closed) but it was a joke throughout my childhood. Dad would always (ALWAYS, every time we saw it over the years) give me a barking smack. As in woof woof, wallop.

It says something about developing minds that I had to ask every year why the pub had that name. I think I was about 14 when I finally got it settled in my head.

FTR, a smack is a type of fishing boat. Barking is a place (that I knew - Mum was born close to Barking and Auntie Alice still lived in the area). So a Barking Smack is like the Woolwich Ferry, just a boat from somewhere.

Still, it is funny.
Or maybe you had to be there.

A bit more of the caravan site.
I have two vids to upload. They are very exciting.

But in the meantime, I was trying to catch a pic of a seagull catching bread on the wing.
I failed immensely - I had to get the camera out of my bag, switch it on and change the setting. By which time one was flying off and the other sitting still.
But it does give an idea of the siting of the caravans for those not lucky enough to have had a holiday in one.

And next is a pic taken on our last night.
If it looks tweaked, that's because it is. The original is super-bizarrely-orange. I know the curtains have some orange in them, but this isn't the 70s! It's more beige and brown. I think it might be the energy saving lights.

Ta!

you should have been with mrs and I down Cornwall in May... We were walking down the quayside in Looe and a seagull, who must have been a spitfire pilot in a former life, swooped down behind me, came in right over my shoulder, and took my whole ice cream cone right outta my hand.

dirty bugger... I remember what he looks like too !! I'm gonna have words with him next time !!
:o

Carry a camera. I have found this is the best deterrant.

I spent ages trying to get good seagull pics - they are extraordinary feathered acrobats. But bring a camera out and they all disappear!

Mum worried about me putting bread out for them, or throwing it into the air, trying to get a good photo. She thought they might snatch me bald-headed in their feeding frenzy. Nope. Now I realise I should have had ice cream.

Also, please don't mention Cornwall.
All we heard on the weather forecasts all last week was "The best of the weather is in the West..." Argh! When we went camping in Cornwall (okay, it was about 1979) the winds were so fierce it blew our neighbour's tent away. They had to cancel a yacht race because too many boats crashed. We booked for two weeks and came home after five days (and we were hardy souls).

Bloody Cornwall.

We went to Devon the year after.

you go to a bloody holiday camp in Great Yarmouth and complain about a little breeze in Cornwall !!

( personally I prefer the beaches in the winter as the gusts are up and the emitts ( tourists ) are down.

Breeze?
Gale-force-bloody-wind, killing yachtsmen!

Actually one of the times we went camping in Vauxhall, the tent next to us burned down.
We were allowed to sit up, so that we weren't scared.
I wasn't scared, it was exciting.
I seem to remember hot sweet tea as well.

Ahhh the resilence of childhood.

don'cha know me love.. down Cornwall that be called a breeze

( my true Cornish neighbour would kill me he ever heard me talking like that )

In Weymouth, tourists are called grackles.
So my Weymouth-born friend tells me.

grackle if I remember my birdwatching days is a sort of small noisy blackbird..

emmit is Cornish for ant ( or so my neighbour tells me )

Or a tall, slim gay man (Queer as Folk US)

And here we are! Movie time!
Self explanatory.

Regent Road from the top and bottom.
Obviously on two different days!

Home to many purveyors of tat.
As kids we loved it, having pocket money and buying rubbish.
As adults my parents still love it, seeking out the strange and useful (Dad got a top to put on an open drinks can - something he's been looking for for ages and wasn't sure existed).

I saw a great squeaky bird puppet - available in many bright colours, but it was the black one that really appealed to me. Mum promised that we would come back on the last day and buy one (I wanted it for teaching Tiger) but we both forgot. Nothing similar on the internet :( I am now looking out for another greedy crow for £3.99.

A tower, on our walk into town.
Sorry to give no more info, it just is what it is.

It's nowhere near the oldest building in Yarmouth, which has visible Roman walls.

And the end of the pier, with bumpy slide.

What are those wires above Regent Road? It almost looks like the nets they have underneath trapeze artists.

How lovely. What a gorgeous place. Thanks for sharing. :)

Almost as good as being there without the sand in my underwear ;)

Emmets and Grockles

(I like the word grockle bait :angel: )

Here's a shot from a 1838 dictionary which quotes emmet as English word:

Attachment 33275

Looks like electric lights, a bit like Christmas decoration. But then, it might be there to deter the gulls (they snatched my fish 'n chips once :sniff:)

That gull had a lot of gall!

cursed gulls!

I wonder if gulls stole Monster's bike!

Scriveyn has it right - the wires are for lights.
Seaside towns come alive during the summer, so the lights are up all year round.

Yes, yes I was.:lol2: My mind was working way too hard on that. I just could not reconcile why they would fence off the water. Thanks for the clarification.

I see the vanes/props for those turbines coming off the interstate (on trucks) quite often here. I never see the hubs. They are huge. Somewhere south of me, somebody is manufacturing those things at an admirable pace.

Heheh, APOD had another picture of Sundae's beach.:lol2:

I see the vanes/props for those turbines coming off the interstate (on trucks) quite often here. I never see the hubs. They are huge.

Hang out at a state scale some time
Ive seen the vanes ,
Hubs 1per truck,
NaCell (????) 1 per HEAVY Truck ,
and the tower Pieces, damn near as big as the vanes

What is the meaning of "magic" as used here ?

The Amusing Planet is currently exhibiting "Roundabouts in Great Britain",
and the word "magic" is used on at least one other.

Here's another question:
Is it legal to make a U-turn on the Magic Swindon Roundabout, as seen below ?

If so, it seems unusual since you can always just go all the way around the center circle and then exit normally.

As I understand it, some of the more complicated roundabout systems got nicnamed Magic Roundabouts after the kid's tv show of that name.




British pre-school kids tv in the 70s was seriously strange. Dylan the hippy rabbit rocked.




I loved Dougal the dog. He may have a good deal to do with the kinds of dogs I tend to go for. Also - my west highland terrier had a toy snail that looked just like Brian.

Narrated and scripted by Eric Thompson, father of Emma Thompson. He did much more, but did a marvellous job with The Magic Roundabout. It's a French programme and he narrated "blind", in that he did not listen to the original story lines, simply made up his own. It was always surreal, but his perfect RP delivery added an additional layer for us 70s kids.

Funny to have an old thread resurface.
Gosh I was fat.
But I like my hair colour.

It's the red and white horizontal stripes that make you look fat. ;)