June 2010
We lived in the East End of London and Southend-on-Sea seemed to be an extension. We didn’t know a seaside existed anywhere else, because, until we were grown-up, Southend was the only place we went to for our holidays.
Depending on whether our parents could afford it we were either taken for a day, or if there was money left over after paying the bills we would stay for a week. Either way, when we knew we were going to the Seaside, we could hardly contain our excitement.
The adventure started with a bus ride to Liverpool Street from Dalston - once on the train, which was the old fashioned type with sash windows that could be pulled down, we would poke our heads out of the window (mum shouting ‘be careful’) sniffing the smoky air from London until we would smell the lovely tangy sea, and hear the shrieks of the gulls, telling us we were approaching Southend.
It always seemed to be sunny and warm on the coast - dad would pay for deckchairs - he sitting on the chair on the beach - in common with most men in those days - wearing a suit, shirt and tie, but as a concession to his surroundings he would take off his socks and shoes.
Mum had a long summer dress on - not a bikini in sight- but we children were more suitably clothed in our summer shorts and T-shirts, sometimes we even changed into our swimming costumes holding a towel around us so that nobody saw us in our birthday suits!
Apart from the usual things we played on the beach, I remember that, at the beginning of the pier there was a ‘laughing’ clown; frightened us to death; also a man with huge scales who, if he guessed your weight correctly kept the sixpence we gave him - if not we had the money back. As a child I was fascinated by the ‘Kiss-Me-Quick’ hats the teenagers wore, and looked around to see if anyone was taking advantage of the invitation. I begged my parents to buy me one, but my father, usually very generous on our holidays, was, much to my chagrin, firmly against me wearing one!
Southend was full of cockneys - making it home from home for us - the atmosphere was always bright and friendly.
When my son was eight we went abroad for the first time ever. The country was Spain and we stayed a week in Los Boliches. I was gob smacked when we landed late evening - the hot air hit our faces as we walked down the steps from the plane. I grew to love Spain as much as I loved Southend.
We stayed in a hotel right on the beach and it had a railway track right in the middle of the sand, (a bit like the first railways we saw in the early American Western films.) Everyday, the clip-clop - a pony and cart, took holiday makers into a little town a few miles away, where we shopped and bought souvenirs. But the thing that struck me most was the shimmer on the sand when the sun was at its height. Although we have been abroad dozens of times since that first visit, I shall never forget the friendly Spaniards (not a cockney amongst them) or the ambience of the country.
When my mum was in her seventies she had a dreadful accident. She spent some weeks in hospital, (my dad had died a few years earlier.) When she was ready to be discharged my siblings and I saw that she would never be able to look after herself again. She didn’t want to live with any of us so we looked around for a suitable Home. After deliberating whether it would be advisable for her to stay in a Home in London (where she still lived) or elsewhere, we hit on the idea of looking for a suitable place in Southend. She ended her days happily in a lovely Home overlooking the cliffs and from her window she could see the sea. In fact she watched the Air Show from the lounge of the Home. The staff were brilliant and it was great to know she was happy and in good hands. When we visited from London we would push her in her disabled chair along the front or down to the bandstand - in fact to all the places she was already familiar with from our holidays in Southend.
We were coming up for retirement so sold our home in London (still living in the East End) and bought a house in Westcliff. The move was not at all traumatic, after all Southend was my second home. We could look in on mum until she died – and our son, daughter in law and grandchildren could visit in the holidays from the Midlands carrying on the ‘old’ tradition.