We went to Hayling Island for a week in the summer of 1971 and stayed in a caravan. It was not our first caravan holiday, but it is the first one I remember in enough detail to separate it from the others.
Dad packed the car the evening before. We had a second-hand Ford Anglia by then, and he believed it would hold anything if people stopped bringing unnecessary items. Mum and Dad did not agree on what counted as unnecessary.
Mum packed food, towels, bedding and clothes for four people. Dad packed tools, a torch and a length of rope. Peter brought a football. I brought three books and was told to leave two behind.
The caravan had narrow beds, a table that became part of the sleeping arrangements and a cooker with very little room beside it. Mum opened cupboards and began deciding where everything should go. Dad checked the gas and the door catches. Peter asked when we were going to the beach. I chose a bed before anybody else could describe the choice as a family decision.
The wash block was a short walk away. Mum gave us strict instructions about towels, soap and not leaving anything behind. Peter left the soap on the first morning.
Breakfast was cereal or toast. Lunch was sandwiches. Tea depended on whether Mum had cooked, bought chips or decided that we had already eaten enough during the day. Holiday food was meant to be easier, but Mum still appeared to be responsible for most of it.
Dad took us to the beach with a windbreak, a bag, a flask and the football. The windbreak required several attempts and two opinions. Once it was standing, Dad sat behind it and read the paper. Peter kicked the ball too far and had to chase it. I went into the sea up to my knees and considered that sufficient.
We collected shells, though Mum would only let us keep the ones without anything living in them. Peter found a crab and tried to make it our responsibility. Dad returned it to the water.
In the evenings, we played cards at the caravan table. Dad explained the rules. Peter disputed them. Mum continued dealing while they settled the matter. I usually lost because I watched what everybody else was doing and forgot my own cards.
One night it rained hard enough for us all to stay inside. The caravan had been advertised as sleeping four. It did not say what the four people were meant to do while awake.
Dad read. Mum did a crossword. Peter bounced the football once and was stopped. I was allowed one of the books I had brought.
By the end of the week, the caravan felt familiar. We knew which cupboard door opened when somebody walked past and which bed was best avoided if you wanted to turn over.
On the last morning, Mum checked every drawer. Dad checked the gas again. Peter found the missing soap under his bed.
Dad said we had left the place as we found it.
Mum looked at the floor and fetched the brush. Peter and I waited by the car while she swept.