Golden Summers?

I have so many memories of Burton Bradstock. My brother and I sometimes stayed with an aunt and uncle there for the annual escape from the Midlands, where we lived. Often, these visits engendered large family outings to the beach. Oh, the misery of those early bathing costumes!
The beach was more pebble than sand, and there was a potentially dangerous 'shelf' under the water. We had a wonderful time with all of our cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.

The uncle with whom we stayed would take my brother out mackrel fishing some nights. My brother and I always spent a lot of time together at home. Now I was excluded, and I was definitely not happy. Eventually, tired of my pleading, they took me along. Big mistake! I began to feel very queasy as the waves rocked the boat. When they began to cut up fish for bait, I was really in trouble. My uncle was far from pleased when he had to turn the boat about and take me home!

One year, there was a fierce storm. The wind was so strong that I was not allowed out. Again, I was furious. My uncle and brother, with many others, spent much of the day helping to rescue belongings for people who had been flooded out at the nearbye caravan park. I remember my brother being very upset about a small dog they were unable to save.It may have been during the same summer that a thatched cottage was struck by lightening, taking the roof off. Fortunately, the owners were not there at the time.

There were quieter times, a village fete, walks to explore.... always it was a sort of 'coming home'. When eventually my grandparents died, they were buried in the churchyard at Burton Bradstock.

Our last visit was very different, a small family gathering, in the same churchyard, reuniting our mother with her parents. Even through the tears, being back again brought so many memories of happier days, when it seemed that the sun always shone. How blessed we were to have such family to 'come home' to, and to be able to ground ourselves in so beautiful an area of the country.