I recently returned to the nation of my birth to make sure my 86-year-old mum was still alive. She was, so my next duty was to ensure she wasn't frivolously blowing through my inheritance on afternoon teas in Betty's and trips to fancy Victorian department stores in places like York and Harrogate. She has a penchant for comfy shoes and granny dresses with expensive labels!
Obviously, she has to go out sometimes, but while I'm in town, I much prefer these trips to be supervised. By me, obviously. I am her eldest and most beloved son, after all, and feel the need to take care of the old girl. For three weeks a year, anyway!
Usually, she chooses to go to Scotland. A place she's loved and visited for many, many years, but this year, she wanted a change.
I'd personally be happy stopping close to home, in Yorkshire. After all, my home county is without doubt the most beautiful and diverse region on Earth, but I'd already been warned by the wife.
"We are NOT going to Scarborough this year. I'm bored with it and it's shite."
Hmm, that put me in my place. So I asked my mum,
"Where do you fancy going for a few days this year, mum?"
"Somewhere down South", she said. That was a shocker.
"Where exactly down South?" I anxiously retorted, rather hoping for the rugged coastlines of Cornwall.
" Either Weston-Super-Mare or Torquay."
You need to remember that in England, this is the middle of the school summer holidays, and wherever we chose to go 'darn Sarf', it was going to be full of horrible scrawny kids scoffing bucket loads of ice cream and eating endless trays of chips and their dreadful parents all talking in that awful Cockney drawl. Mainly Londoners, but also a few of the poorer folks from the home counties who can't afford Lanzarote, so go down to Torbay, as it likes to call itself the 'English Riviera', making it less embarrassing to talk about at dinner parties!
These are all places we went on family holidays together when I was a kid, so it's probably understandable that, at 86, my mum is embarking on a farewell tour.
As the final decision was left to me, I chose 'The English Riviera'. Torquay, Paignton and Brixham, which, to be fair, did rekindle some happy childhood memories of summers in the seventies. Thoughts of steam trains and sailing boats were also an influence in this monumental decision.
Before all this driving, there was the not insignificant task of getting my little old car insured, taxed and MOTed. The insurance is a simple five-minute online process, but the tax is dependent on having an MOT, and an MOT is dependent on hoping the garage doesn't find too many problems. However, they did. Brakes, suspension bushes and a pair of tyres. Thankfully, they missed the little bandage I'd stuck over a tiny hole in the cat, but still, £676 later, and the cost of car hire suddenly began to seem like it would have been the sensible option. Two days later and with certificate in hand, I went back online to tax it, finding that the little car had moved from being tax exempt to costing £20. Thanks, Keir.
Out on the open road, and as the designated only driver, I was king of the car. I'd turfed them both out of bed at 5.30 am for a 6 am start, and after much grumbling about not having enough time to get ready, by 6.02 am they, and their small suitcases, were shoe-horned into the tiny Citroen and we were off. Heading South for 305 miles non-stop. Or at least until my Mother's bladder gave out. We did well, only three short stops, and 6 hours, two meal-deals and a big bag of mint humbugs later, we were pulling onto Paignton sea-front.
It looked exactly the way I'd remembered it the last time I was there, around 45 years ago, and I suddenly realised why I'd never been back in all that time. It was a complete dump, and on the once beautiful lawned promenade stood a huge travelling funfair and circus. Right across the road from our hotel and in full view of my wonderful sea-view room. To add insult to injury, the hot sunny weather that the Brits had been constantly moaning about for the previous 3 months had turned into cloudy, drizzling and generally mawkish. The grey skies adding to my growing feelings that the past is best left in the past, where it belongs.
I was actually in Woolworths in Paignton when I first heard the news that Elvis Presley had died in 1977 on one of their Binatone radio-cassette players I was fancying. My Aunty, who was with us on that particular holiday, was a massive Elvis fan, and anytime I had to travel in her car, I got bombarded with Elvis' 40 Greatest Hits on 8-track. She didn't stop bawling for the rest of the day. The bawling restarted when we went to see Tommy Steele doing his summer season at Paignton Festival Hall two days later. During his show, he paid tribute to Elvis, which set her off again, and half the theatre turned to look at her sobbing into her neatly embroidered handkerchief. I could have died! I remember my Mother being a bit pissed off, as she loved Tommy Steele and it was difficult to hear over the top of all that wailing, but the highlight of that show was him accidentally spitting out his false teeth when sitting on front of the stage singing 'Little White Bull'. If only we'd had smartphones back in the day.
It's also incredible how much shit is stored in your head that only comes to the fore when you accidentally or otherwise trigger it.
It seemed the old girl's memory had also been triggered as we flew down the M5, the motorway to the South-West, early doors, before it turned into its regular alternative daily role as a car park.
"Do you think Tommy Steele will be doing a summer season again?" She said, as she ever-so-slightly began to dribble.
"Of course not, he must have been dead for 20 years"
Except the wife in the back, who was Googling who the hell Tommy Steele was, piped up.
"No, he's not, he's still alive and still singing at 88".
Thankfully, not in Paignton whilst we were there, for Paignton Festival Hall, in its majestic sea-front location, was now a multiplex cinema!
Sadly, variety shows at seaside theatres are most definitely a thing of the past.
Of course, back then, I was the horrible scrawny kid scoffing bucket loads of ice cream and eating endless trays of chips (a bit like Elvis, I suppose!) and with an annoying Yorkshire accent, so in a way, I guess it was simply karma that close to 50 years later, I'd have to suffer the latest generation of annoying brats as retribution.
In case you're wondering...
Why not Weston-super-Mare?
I couldn't possibly answer that question without risk of being downvoted by a certain 150K+ Hivian who may pass this way....
Anyway, before this turns into even more of a monotonous, Peter Kaye-style trip down memory lane, I'll leave it there. It was a good couple of weeks, to be fair. Pictures and posts will undoubtedly follow, and I will try to be a little less irreverent and cynical. Try being the operative word.
Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend.
Martin
Hehehe. It's good to have your mother around 😁. Going back to the place that you left memories either brings a smile or sadness😌
As I get older, I have to fight hard not to reminisce but it's difficult not to be curious about places that held happy memories. It does spoil the memory a little though when you see a place that has changed for the worse!
Thank you so much for dropping by. I hope you're well and having a wonderful weekend.
Hehehe. Same to you😁
Oh no! Definitely not. It's such a shitty little town, I wouldn't go there either if I had a choice. If anyone downvotes you for making that brilliant decision, send them to me, and I'll give them a piece of my mind 🤨🙃
Lol...the real reason was that it's probably on my 10 years since I last called there. It's not that bad. You've got great piers, and I love piers and it's big plus is that you can park on the beach!
Downside is that it's a helluva walk to dip your toes in the sea when the tides out.
Hope you had a lovely weekend.
I was around 15 last time I went to Torquay. I remember 'Hong Kong Garden'.. by this great band called Siouxie & The Banshees.., an association. So much better than that other chick.. what was she called... something O'Conner... :)
haha....I assume you're talking about Sinead? ;-)
I guess that was probably at one of Torquay's only remaining theatres, the Princess Theatre, which is still going strong, although looking at the program of events, all I could see into the new year were damn 'tribute' acts. There are some great looking clubs though....if I were 35 years younger! I miss the '80s when there were masses of venues and you could go and see a 'named' band weekly if you wanted to.
Hope the family is well and you've all had a great weekend
Actually.. Hazel, as I know you had the hots for her..
All I remember about Torquay is that I stayed in a large rambling house that was pretending to be a hotel (it was all so English).., and my mum taking me to a live Wrestling match. That bit was fun.
Hazel was great, and so were Siouxie & The Banshees
I could never get in Hazel, the Banshees.. I was a massive fan of.
We got rid of our car in Covid and love it. If we really need one we just rent, otherwise make use of public transport or walk. A bit inconvenient at times but it is cheaper, even if we take taxis and things. No MOT no insurance no fuel it all adds up.
Yeah you missed the best summer for ages.
I will never forget the day Elvis died, well the day after. My birthday is August 17th and we were moved house from Edinburgh to the Orkney Islands, and I woke up to find out Elvis had died the day before!
I hope you did enjoy your holiday, you can't beat fresh sea air.
Hello mate, hope you're well. I had thought about renting every time but I hate the hassle and I'm always stressed about scratching it and the mileage limits. I think I'm going to treat myself to a cheap classic next time I'm back so no mot or tax will be required!
We had a great time thanks but hopefully next year, we'll be back to North of the border!
Stay healthy and happy mate and thank-you for dropping by.
Ohhh a cheap classic would be cool! Ah well hopefully next year it is a good summer again up here.
Great to see your Leeds doing so well. Rangers have been bought by the 49ers too, although they got off to a crap start appointing Russel Martin who no fan wanted, and we have been proved right.
That's a good thing you are reunited with your mom again after a long time. That would be so heart warming to be back to the place where you grow up. There is no place like home.
Sending you Ecency love
Thank you for the upvote :-)
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