Holiday Camp Pwllheli
In the summer of 1966, I was sixteen years old, and went on my first holiday without any parental or adult supervision. The venue was Butlins Holiday Camp, Pwllheli, and my travelling companions were two of my former classmates from junior school. It was a whole new world. On the first night my friend Ian Lancaster and I had two pints of bitter and were pleasantly sloshed. For the next couple of hours we stumbled around the camp, speaking to every one of the hundreds of girls who seemed to just keep swimming towards us - although, in reality, the only things swimming were our eyes. However, no one rebuked us, threatened us, or told us we were banned, and so we stuck to the same formula for the whole week. It was the first time we had been treated as adults, and the freedom we enjoyed was an immeasurable confidence booster for our juvenile egos.