Dene's Holiday Camp

My memories of Kessingland was us catching the coach from outside the bakers in Stotfold (my home town), travelling down via Newmarket, passing the site where a young gypsy boy had been killed many moons ago.  We would then get to Lowestoft bus depot where a minibus would then take us into Kessingland.  We would get to the pub on the top of the hill where you could look down and see the sea and an old boy would pick us up on his tractor and take us into the camp site.
What a wonderful time we had!  There was the major out to greet all and the photo stand where pictures had been taken from the previous 2 weeks.  We would book in and collect our chalet keys, drop our luggage off and then go exploring, first to the cafe for tea and fab milkshakes, then a dip in the pool.  Dad was the champion high diver, we have all the pics.