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Megan and Jade on Redcar Beach

We took advantage of a warm summer day to jump on a bus from Darlington to the coastal town of Redcar and to take with us our two nieces Jade and Megan and our sister-in-law Jhap. The story of our bus fares brings to mind a situation immortalized by Dilbert: The intern, who so far has been ignored by his boss, is told to get his coat and come along. Ashok, the intern, is proud that he is suddenly being noticed. Then, in the next frame, we see that they are traveling along in a HOV (High Occupancy Vehicle) lane; a minimum of two people are required in the car. In our case, the fare for two adults with two children was only 2/3 of the fare for two adults by themselves! Our savings went into the pockets of Jade and Megan; from their pockets it went into the arcade games.

Why were we going to Redcar, when there are so many seaside towns along the northeastern coast of England? For nostalgic reasons of course. Redcar was the target of an annual outing organized by the local Rise Carr Working Men’s Club, to which Dad belonged. For us Bates's when we were children it was truly the event of the year. It is unforgettable.

On the appointed day we would be up early and find Mam busily making a mountain of sandwiches for our lunch. My favorite was egg and tomato because it made the soft white bread all squishy. Banana sandwiches were another favorite for the same reason. The club was located at the top of our street, but the buses that were to take us there and back were always parked on Eldon Street, the next street over from ours. Around eight-thirty in the morning, we would hear the buses arrive as they drove up Lansdowne Street to enter Eldon Street from the top, passing in front of the Rise Carr Club as they did so. In my memory there were enough buses that when parked end to end they stretched the whole length of Eldon Street. I have no idea how we chose which bus to ride on, but we usually ended up with neighbors and friends from Lansdowne Street.

Just before the bus set off, the club committee came to every bus and handed out small packets to each of the children with some spending money. My sister Sue tells me that the money was allocated by family and not by child. Each family got a pound, which Mam shared evenly between us kids. Since there were already four of us by the time I could remember (age 5), it’s not surprising my memory was of getting about five shillings (25p or 35c) each.

Redcar is only 25 miles away by road, but in my child’s memory, it was such a long ride.  Again, as if by magic, we would always spend most of the journey singing.  The songs were mostly old vaudeville tunes or popular songs from American musicals. All-time favorite was of course 

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside
Oh, I do like to be beside the sea
Oh I do like to walk along the prom prom prom
And hear the brass band play diddley om pom pom!

They were all eminently singable. Much the same repertoire came out on New Year’s Eve.

Inflateable Castle on the Beach

Once there, we would tromp along the promenade (the 'prom' from the song) clutching our buckets and spades until the adults had picked a suitable spot on the beach. They would hire deck chairs for the adults (Mam, Dad, Grandma, and Uncle George plus neighbors like Mr and Mrs Ross from next door).  Then we would struggle into our cozzies (swimsuits, short for swimming costumes) and the adventure would begin. 

It was hardly ever hot, but we always put on our cozzies and at least went paddling in the sea. Sometimes Dad would roll up his trouser legs and come paddling with us. But mostly the men would disappear to the pub to have a drink before the picnic and the women would sit around in the deck chairs and grumble aobut the men and gossip about all and sundry. As a kid, I loved to listen in on these conversations even though I rarely remember learning anything of any great import. Grandma used to sit on the beach wearing both hairnet and hat, firmly kept in place with a hat pin, although she would sometimes deign to take off her coat. She always wore lisle stockings and lace-up shoes with a clumpy heel that in the ’60’s briefly became quite fashionable.

Once, while at Redcar, I went paddling with Dad and decided to go back to the family on my own. Of course I got lost.  I suppose I was crying because I couldn’t find anyone, so someone took me to the lost child office and a lady picked me up and asked me my name.  I had been very well trained by Mam and instantly gave them my full name and address “Janet Louise Bates, etc.”  My name and details were announced on the tannoy system and shortly afterwards someone came to rescue me.  I think it was both Mam and Dad, but I don’t really remember. I do remember that Mam was pretty mad at Dad for losing me.

When lunchtime arrived, one or other of the adults went to buy pots of tea for the company. One or two of the kids went along to carry the cups. Along with the tea, you could hire as many cups as you needed on deposit; cups and pots to be returned for the return of the deposit. It may seem strange to drink hot tea on the beach, but if you had been to the northeast coast of England in summertime, you might understand. Our tea always came with milk, but I suppose that we had to add sugar.

Sometimes, Mam and Dad would buy from the seafood stalls. I can remember getting mussels in vinegar and liking them, a liking that has stayed with me. One of the first dates Gerry and I had was to eat mussels in a little restaurant in Paris, that of course no longer exists.

I no longer know how long we stayed, but probably the buses were scheduled to leave for home around 5 or 6 o’clock. We would all change out of our cozzies, take the teapot and cups back to the hut, and away to the buses for another singing ride home. Back home there was the delicious feeling you have when you’ve spent the whole day outdoors, underlined by the sand in your shoes, your hair, and everywhere else, and if you were lucky a warm red glow that people would remark upon “Ooo, you’ve caught the sun!”. For me, they were wonderful days.