Holidays are going back to the future, now we’re all being encouraged to staycation in the UK rather than jet off to the sun.
Which is, to be honest, how most of my childhood holidays were spent, catching some of Britain’s greatest tourist resorts at the tail end of their height.
We had the thrill of travelling by overnight coach or interminable rail journeys to some glamorous locations.
St Ives, Morecambe, Faversham in Kent (because my uncle lived there) and… Aberdeen.
Ooh, the excitement of travelling all the way from Edinburgh to the Granite City in the late 60s. It was my first encounter with Aberdeen and turned out to be one the most memorable family holidays I had as a kid.
There was, of course, that sinking feeling when we checked into the guest house we were staying at and discovered it didn’t have a TV.
My siblings and I gawped
in disbelief and let out a
collective “muuuuummmm…
There’s no telly!”
My siblings and I gawped in disbelief and let out a collective “muuuuummmm… There’s no telly!” only to be silenced with a harsh look seeing as the landlady was in the room with us, showing us where the board games were kept. As if.
And when dad said our first trip the next morning was going to be to the fish market, you could actually see the four of us kids losing the will to live.
It turned out, though, the fish market was actually good fun and free… there wasn’t a lot of money on the go for a family of seven (grandad came too) back in the day.
Back then, the fish market was a massive sight to behold. I recall the shouting, the smell and the noise and the bustle. My brother has reason to remember it for a different reason. He was only about four at the time and was dive-bombed by seagulls, resulting in hysterics and a lifelong bird phobia.
The place was called
either the Red Monk
or the Red Friar,
or a variation thereupon.”
I think dad liked the market too. Mainly because it meant we were down the harbour area for lunch and he found a place that did good cheap meals. We liked it so much it became our go-to place for the duration of the holiday. I still get nostalgic thinking about munching into hot sausage rolls while dad had his pint and grandad puffed away on his pipe.
Now, at this point my memories from 50 years ago become vague. The place was called either the Red Monk or the Red Friar, or a variation thereupon. I half remember it was in a really old building with a small stone doorway. Yet in the 20-plus years I’ve been working in Aberdeen, I’ve never yet worked out where it was.
Like all good tourists of the day, we found our way to Union Terrace Gardens where we could watch a band playing at the bandstand, folk dancing and check out some mean games of giant draughts.
Grandad and I had a go, but I wasn’t so much bothered about my next move as mastering the art of trying to pick up an outsize playing piece with a boating hook. The chances of me causing injury to myself or anyone else around me were not insubstantial.
Some helpful bloke tried to give me advice, but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. To an eight-year-old from the Gorgie side of Edinburgh, Doric might as well have been Dutch.
We did splash out on an excursion at one point – a bus trip out Royal Deeside.
Look, there’s a castle. Look, there’s a mountain. Look, there’s a river. Look, there’s another castle. Disneyland it wasn’t at that age. Although thanks to the curving roads I felt as sick as if I’d spent a few hours on the Runaway Train rollercoaster.
We also went to Hazlehead Zoo – and my turn to find a phobia to call my own. I went into the maze and couldn’t find my way out, no matter how hard I tried. I was trapped, the high hedges were closing in and with no escape route, I panicked.
Welcome to claustrophobia. I know, that’s quite a feat in an open-air maze, but I managed it. My parents found me. I believe the screams for help and sobbing might have led them to where I was.
Now this where unreliable memory kicks in again. I think we went to the zoo at Hazlehead.
I seem to remember seeing llamas and lions and being sad at them being stuck in cages. There was also a spooky aquarium. Unless that was somewhere in Morecambe and I’m getting confused.
And I have absolutely no recollection of Aberdeen Beach. None. Maybe we just never got past the Red Monk on our way there.
What I do remember, though, were friendly people, we grew to love spending our evenings playing board games and cards and to this day, Aberdeen sticks in my mind as one our best family trips.
So, holidays on your doorstep? There are worse memories you can make.
