With a birthday falling in the long summer holidays I was never faced with the dilemma of whether to risk bunking off school, although in all honesty with my mum it was never an option.

Occasionally I would celebrate, if that’s the right word, my birthday on our annual family two week break spent at Caister Holiday Camp a contender for the holiday camp crown ultimately won by Butlins.

The dining accommodation was divided into houses to increase friendly rivalry in the plethora of activities on offer. I especially liked it when we were allocated to the Wolves with their rebel rousing house song “We’re the Wolves, all together in one pack.... sang to the tune of The Blaydon Races. The year we were in Hippos wasn’t quite the same.

As we trooped off for our meals, summoned by the strains of the Happy Wanderer played over the loud speaker system, it was the ultimate Hi De Hi experience.

At the end of the fortnight, campers were invited to view a film show of the highlights of their holiday to a backing track of Cliff Richard singing (We’re all going on a) Summer Holiday.

As far as I can remember we never made an appearance in any of these film shows, mainly because as a family we weren’t very sociable. I never entered the Talent Show, the swimming gala or any of the beach sports competitions. I did once take part in the Fancy Dress Competition, I must add under sufferance, as Harlequin in a costume my mum had spent the pre holiday weeks sewing. A kid plastered in newspapers won, if I remember rightly.

Mum was no Bathing Beauty material and ineligible for the Glamorous Granny contest while dad wouldn’t have flashed his knobbly knees, not even if there was a pint in it for the winner.

So why did we go, year after year after year?

My theory is because the family dog (and even the budgie) was welcome! My antipathy to all forms of pet probably stem from these holidays.

The annual pilgrimage to Caister ceased when I was eleven and I celebrated my 12th birthday at my Auntie Kit’s on the Isle of Sheppey.

Dad worked as a van driver for cooked meats and sausages manufacturer Bowyers at the time and had contacts with a number of other delivery van drivers made in factory canteens across the London suburbs. On this occasion dad had traded in a catering size gala pie for a birthday cake in the shape of an opened book, one of the most thoughtful things I ever remember him doing. For most of my childhood he tried to transform me into being a ‘down with the kids’ type of kid when I was a bookish nerd, frightened of roller skates, bicycles and pretty much everything else as well type of child.

So how will I be spending this upcoming birthday – bunking off housework and with my head in a book probably.

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