10 February 2021

Butlin's

Back in May 2017, I wrote about holiday jobs I had during my years at university. Go here.  I referred to Butlin's - a famous holiday camp chain that bloomed in Britain in the years following World War II.  Butlin's is still  with us but in a reduced and altered form. It's nothing like the old days.

There were large Butlin's holiday camps at Skegness (Lincolnshire), Minehead (Somerset), Bognor Regis (Sussex), Ayr (Scotland) Pwllheli and Barry Island (Wales), Clacton (Essex) and Filey (Yorkshire). I worked at the last one in the summer of 1975.

These camps were self-contained. Families slept there, ate there, drank there and took advantage of the various entertainment possibilities that Butlin's provided. As all the camps were in seaside locations guests could also wander down to beaches that were fenced off for exclusive use by Butlin's visitors. One might ask if the fences were to keep strangers out or to keep holidaymakers inside the places. Entering a  Butlin's holiday camp was rather like entering a military base - such was the security.

By the early sixties working class people at last had  disposable incomes to play with - unlike their parents and grandparents who invariably lived from hand to mouth. Money in your pocket meant you could just about afford to take your family away for a week in a holiday camp and you did not have to plan your holiday very much because Butlin's did it all for you. It was easy - perhaps like the regimentation of wartime.

In my weeks at Filey, I slept in a two person chalet in the downmarket accommodation zone tolerated by the staff. It was like a refugee camp somewhere in The Middle East. I was twenty two and I was put with an Irish fellow ten years my senior. He was called Ben and not someone I would naturally have chosen as a roommate.

Though in general I am fond of the Irish people, Ben was hard to like. He was tough and rough with horrible tattoos down both arms and he happily confessed that he had spent time in prison. He spoke English with a very broad Kilkenny accent and careless enunciation.  You would not want to get on the wrong side of a bloke like that so I jollied him along. He probably thought that I was a posh English  twerp because I read books, used some big words and went to university.

Most nights Ben went to the staff bar and stumbled back into our little chalet room  around midnight - waking me up.  I was working  fourteen hours a day to maximise my income and I was not interested in the staff bar, I  just wanted to get to sleep ready for the next day.

One particular night is ingrained in my memory. Ben stumbled back into the room in the early hours with a companion - a cleaner he had hooked up with the previous summer. She was called Judy and she came from Leeds. She would not have won any kind of prize in a Butlin's Bathing Beauty competition but she was nice enough. As usual, I had to pretend I was asleep as they blundered around.

Soon the electric light was off and they were both in Ben's single bed. Ben was grunting like a wild boar and the bed springs had a squeaky musical rhythm. Judy was panting like a marathon runner. Yes you guessed it - they were making love as I lay no more than six feet away. Judy said "Oo! Ben!" and Ben kept grunting. I wanted to get up and complain vociferously, "I say old chap this is just not on! Can't a fellow get a decent night's kip without the noise of two animals coupling?" But of course, I just kept quiet. Ben had that effect on me.

After ten minutes the romantic act was over and all went quiet. What a relief! For me as well as them. Perhaps I could get back to sleep again.

Then Ben said quietly at first, "You've wet my bed!" The same declaration was made three or four times rising in volume. Pathetically, Judy protested, "It weren't just me Ben, it were you and all."

"You've wet my ****ing bed!" Ben yelled at full volume, consumed by anger.

The light went back on and there was a naked Ben and a naked Judy. I peeped through my eyelashes briefly to confirm this. 

Ben did not hit Judy but he handled her roughly and chucked her out of the chalet followed by her clothes and shoes still yelling, "You wet my ****ing bed!" as Judy sobbed, "I'm going to get security on you Ben you bastard!"

"**** off!" he yelled slamming the door in her face.

Shakespeare was right when he said that the course of young love never does run smooth. Ben flipped his mattress over and was soon sound asleep snoring like a grizzly bear in a cave. The next day he forgot to say to me, "I am sorry that I disturbed you last night!" But that was Ben for you - shy to the end. 

After all these years, I am glad that I have at last recorded that nocturnal incident in writing.  Looking back, it was all part of life's rich tapestry...

An early badge from Filey

41 comments:

  1. Confessions of A Yorkshire Redcoat? You could play Robin Askwith YP.

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    1. And you could play Ted Bovis.

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    2. JayCee could play Gladys Pugh.

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    3. Ted Bovis could snog with Gladys Pugh.

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  2. Blimey! What was Ben's role at the camp? I bet he was something in Customer Relations.

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    1. I am afraid I do not recall JayCee. It was a long time ago.

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  3. Life’s rich tapestry left a little to be desired on that particular occasion.

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    1. The texture of the tapestry will sometimes be quite rough.

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  4. Ben is now a Dublin businessman (i.e. spiv) and Fianna Fail supporter.
    His hopes of becoming Taoiseach were dashed when it was revealed that he had his sticky fingers in a chain of massage parlours, staffed by girls from mitteleuropa.

    A regular customer at Bewley's Continental Cafe in Grafton Street, Ben enjoyed many a Whipped-Cream Latte with young ladies from Estonia and Kazakhstan, until Bewley's closed due to yet another Irish financial scandal, from which Ben emerged smelling of Attar of Roman Roses.

    As for Judy, she has proven to be a most loyal member of Hamel(d)'s domestic staff, dealing efficiently with cleaning my cooker, soaping my car, walking my Doberman dogs and bagging their poo, paying off my Sicilian bookmaker, and washing my bedlinen weekly.

    Judy lives in the Hostel for Single Women in Brigadoon Street, Glasgay, run by the Little Sisters of Saint Lulu.
    Judy told me to say, *I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep, Yorky. If a girl hasn't had at least one night of passion in her life, how can she feel like a woman? Now GET OVER IT.*

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    1. Ha-ha! Your response tickled me John though no tickling occurred between Ben and Judy that night.

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    2. *Bewley's in Grafton Street Has Reopened.*
      YouTube 2017.
      It may not reopen in 2021 because of the pandemic.

      I had coffee in Bewley's in 1972, when its patrons togged up as if for the Irish Races. Many a wee nun in a Rainmate escaped from her convent for a cup of filtered coffee and a spiced bun. Saturday at Bewley's was an occasion.

      I was in Ireland to interview the very aloof JP Donleavy at his country home in County Meath, and the following day in the Shelbourne Hotel, St. Stephen's Green.
      Donleavy lived till the age of 91.
      God's mercy on a godless man.

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    3. J.P.Donleavy. Long ago I read "The Ginger Man" -that's the closest I ever got to him.

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  5. Yikes. File that under memories best not remembered! I wonder where Ben and Judy are now? You could friend them on Facebook!

    I wonder if Butlin's and the other seaside resorts in Britain will have an upswing in business if the coronavirus subsides enough for domestic vacationing but not international flights?

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    1. If Billy Butlin were still alive he would be rubbing his hands with greedy delight. Sadly the Butlin's camp at Filey was razed to the ground at the start of the 1990's.

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  6. Butlin's reminds me of stories of the resorts in the Catskills. Are you familiar with their history? There is a beautiful comedy/drama series called "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel" which has quite a few episodes set in one of those resorts. And of course, "Dirty Dancing" was set in one, too.
    Your story about Ben and Judy sounds like a most unpleasant memory. One probably never forgotten. I love your imagined admonition to them though. You were wise to keep it in your head.

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    1. If I hadn't kept it in my head, my head would have been pummelled Ms Moon. I had no idea that America had holiday resorts like Butlin's.

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  7. Oh my gosh, this made me laugh! Poor you! I wonder what became of Ben? I wonder what became of poor Judy wet-the-bed? My gosh, the scenes that will play out one day when your life is passing before your eyes.

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    1. As they say - truth is stranger than fiction Debby.

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  8. Anonymous9:47 pm

    Pretty unpleasant at the time, I am sure, but makes a great story so many years later.

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    1. Thanks for reading it Andrew. It was like an episode from "Downton Abbey".

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    2. I must have missed that particular episode...

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  9. Silly bugger should have regarded it as a compliment

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  10. I think most people have had the misfortune to have met a Ben and Judy!

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  11. Debby made me laugh: "poor Judy wet-the-bed..."

    Were these cretins drunk, by chance? I ask because it sounds like something a couple of drunk American rednecks would do. Rednecks are rednecks the world over, it seems...

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    1. Yes they were drunk and the scene I described was the culmination of a romantic redneck evening.

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  12. What a story! You have led a very interesting life. I am glad you recorded it for us.

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    1. Some bits have been "interesting" but large swathes have been dull Terry. Like most people's lives.

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  13. Thanks for the laughs ! We had a family holiday in Butlins Filey in 1973, I was eleven years old and thought it was paradise on earth LOL.

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    1. I won a competition in "Robin" comic and took my parents and brothers to Filey on a day trip in 1962. To me it was like a dream come true. Glad I made you chortle Curly Club.

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  14. Oh dear! I get VERY cranky if my sleep is disturbed, but I suppose with someone like Ben being the culprit, even I would have rather kept quiet. Or maybe I would have asked to be moved to a different chalet.

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    1. I think the same now. I should have asked for a room move but I was only twenty two.

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  15. Not for me that story, yucky people, but would have liked to hear more about Butlins. Were you on the entertainment side? Hi-de-hi comes to mind..

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    1. If you click back on the link you will find out more Thelma.

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  16. Blimey, I can see why you needed to get that off your chest. Sometimes life's rich tapestry needs a bit of unpicking!

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    1. Sometimes parts life's rich tapestry should be replaced with Egyptian cotton.

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    2. Esp. if it is going to be wet upon.

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  17. A lesson in how not to treat the girl of your dreams YP?
    When I was very young, my mother, her sister and my cousin and me went on holiday to the Butlin's camp in Filey. No-one in the family could understand why, but my aunt had read that it provided good all round entertainment, especially for children, and a baby-sitting service in the evenings. I don't remember what it was like, but for years afterwards they referred to the camp as Stalag Luft! They had booked for a week, but after the second night my aunt phoned my uncle to come and collect us! On the journey up my uncle had said that he bet they would last for less than a couple of days - and he was right! I think things must have been pretty grim!

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    1. Did you have time to win the Bonny Baby competition CG? It was after the three-legged race and the "Dunk a Redcoat" frolics by the outdoor pool. What larks Pip!

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    2. Strange you should ask that, tongue in cheek though your enquiry might have been! Apparently both my cousin and I won a Fancy dress competition! Just before my uncle came to take us home, my aunt entered us both in the competition, just to fill in the time before our release!

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