For the Seventies child, summer holidays didn’t mean the joy of CentreParcs or the sophistication of a Tuscan villa. For the author, and her mum and dad, disaster always came along for the ride no matter where they went. This memoir is a reminder of just what it was like to spend your summer holidays cold, damp but with sand between your toes.
being a welshy I loved reading about the towns near me Home Town. this was a book out of my normal genre, was lovely to reminisce of my own family camping holidays as a child. but the author did babble way too much for my liking.
