Caravans, B&Bs, and seaside towns — before travel overseas became routine.
In the sixties and seventies, for the majority of ‘Brits’, taking a holiday abroad was still something of a novelty. Far-off lands with exotic names were a dream holiday or not even thought about — they were out of reach.
For most families, a summer holiday didn’t involve airports, passports, or sun loungers in exotic places only seen on a world map. Foreign travel happened, of course, but it was far from common, and holidays were shaped by cost, access, and habit.
The chances were that if you went overseas, you had money.
Instead, a British family holiday meant packing the car, catching a train, or boarding a coach and heading somewhere in Britain. It could be the countryside or more likely, a familiar holiday town that provided everything a family could want.
The big deal was a holiday by the seaside, at one of the country’s many resorts. Britain, with its long coastline and well-established holiday towns and industry, was where the people spent their annual break. In many ways, British holiday trends were well set and predictable.
The Rise of the British Seaside Holiday
By the mid-20th century, Britain already had a strong tradition of domestic holidays. Since Victorian times, resorts like Blackpool, Margate, Brighton, Skegness, and Scarborough welcomed holidaymakers. By the 1960s, these towns were at their peak, packed with amusement parks, piers, theatres, arcades, and boarding houses.
There was a time when many factories and workplaces closed for set weeks, particularly in industrial towns, creating a shared “holiday season.” Entire communities decamped and went on holiday at the same time. Special trains and buses would be arranged. In the north of England, this was known as Wakes Week, which began during the Industrial Revolution.
For working families, the annual holiday was often the only extended break from work all year. Two weeks of summer, traditionally the first two weeks in July.
As children, school holidays gave us a long summer holiday that seemed to go on forever. I remember it lasted about eight weeks, but those two weeks away, if we were lucky, were the big event of the summer. Once I knew that a holiday to the seaside was planned, I would save my pocket money and everything that I had earned for those two weeks away.
The call of the arcades, the slot machines, the chance to be a pinball wizard, or a hotshot on one of the gun machines was strong. Even the seaside bingo, much loved by grandparents, had its attraction. I counted the pennies, knowing that back then, a penny went a long way in the arcades.
Caravans, Hotels, and Boarding Houses
There was a time when going on holiday in Britain was cheap and cheerful. Accommodation was often simple and affordable. Holiday camps like Butlin’s and Pontins offered structured entertainment, meals included, ideal for families.
And the world of television, made fun of it, with Fawlty Towers, and in the 1980s, Hi-de-Hi. Fawlty Towers, starred former Monty Python John Cleese as Basil Fawlty. Fawlty was a holidaymaker’s worst nightmare, and we were fortunate to never meet anyone like him, but then, staying at a hotel was too expensive for my family.
We stayed in a caravan.
Privacy wasn’t the point. The holiday itself was.
Getting There Was Part of the Adventure
Travel was an experience in its own right. We had a long car journey without air conditioning, sat-nav, or seatbelts. Children were wedged between suitcases, armed with comics and sweets.
And occasionally, we would say, “are we there yet?”
But the jouney was often memorable for other reasons. I remember one year that my stepfather had just fitted an 8-track stereo player in the car. Unfortunately, he only had one tape. I can’t remember the artist, but by the time we got to our destination, we had heard those eight tracks enough to last a lifetime.
“Not that one again.” Was a regular comment from the back seat as I stuck my head out of the car window to get away from the sound.
The destination was the same each year, a cheap and cheerful place called Chapel St Leonards on the Lincolnshire coast. The chapel in the name made it sound almost French to me, but it was a very British, actually, it was a very English holiday. I can’t say the beaches were golden, or the weather was great, but there was always the arcades.
The British Weather Problem
The unpredictability of British weather was simply accepted. Rain didn’t cancel a holiday; it just changed the plan. If the beach was out of bounds, there was always those arcades, cafés, or simply walking along the beach getting wet.
“Did you bring a raincoat?” I’d be asked.
“A raincoat? It’s summer.” I’d reply as I got soaked to the skin.
Fortunately, there was enough sun, and I soon managed to dry out after a downpour.
Sunburn was a bonus. No, really. These were times when no one thought about sun cream, let alone protecting our skin from the harmful rays of the sun. Getting sunburnt was carried like a badge of honour, dumb though it was, as it stung like crazy. The antidote back then seemed to be to cover the burns in butter, or margarine.
I’ve no idea who came up with that as the answer.
Why A Holiday Abroad Was Still Unusual
Package holidays to Europe began to grow in the late 60s and 70s, but they were still beyond the reach of many people. Flying was seen as expensive or even risky.
Some families had never left the UK at all, and that was there choice.
For older generations in particular, Britain was the place to go; it was a traditional holiday. Familiar food, a shared language, and no need for passports made domestic travel reassuring. Going abroad often felt unnecessary when there were perfectly good beaches and holiday entertainment to be had at home.
But by the late 1970s and into the 1980s, cheaper flights and paid holiday entitlements began to change habits. Going overseas was more of an option, and the glossy brochures, showing golden beaches, offered all-in package holidays that were now affordable to the masses. Spain, Greece, and France became increasingly popular. Sunshine became an expectation rather than a hope.
My parents finally went overseas for a holiday in the early summer of 1977. But it wasn’t to Europe — they went to the USA. It was a trip to see one of Mam’s sisters who had moved there back in the sixties. I missed out, because the dates clashed with my school exams.
The next year, it was back to Chapel St Leonards.
But, gradually, the traditional British seaside towns declined as families looked further afield. For those who grew up before that shift, the British holiday holds a powerful nostalgia. It was tied to routine, familiarity, and the feeling of time slowing down for one week, or a fortnight of freedom away from the grind of work.
Looking back, holidays in Britain weren’t about luxury or novelty. They were about tradition and they were affordable. It was what most British people did. They booked somewhere in a British resort, put up with whatever the weather threw at them, and enjoyed themselves for a couple of weeks.
So yes, for millions of families, it wasn’t a second-best option. It was simply what our holidays were.
More Did You Know stories about 1960s/70s Britain can be found here.
Photo 1 by Ben Guerin on Unsplash
Photo 2 by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
