God Created Butlins

That's me on the left skrieching!

It’s 1986, I’m ten years old, and God is reigning over Butlins.

I queue for the chalet key, take a deep breath and sigh because my heroine is right before my eyes, a beacon of amusement clad in a red blazer and a gorgeous, pleated skirt.

O to be a redcoat!

​​There’s an outdoor pool with a red and white fountain, and I skreich as my bare belly hits the icy water. I shiver and thaw in a towel by the side of the pool where adults slarry suncream on goose-pimpled skin. I grab my coat and my cousin and race through rows of pink and lemon chalets towards the Big Dipper, the Mexican Hat, the chair lift, the wee train, the Tilt-o-whirl and The Donkey Derby.

Dusk descends on the bonnie hills of Ayrshire, and I know that God is there when the silver moon of the Stuart’s Ballroom alights across a dance hall filled with children. ‘Let’s do the Time Warp again,’ I sing, and it’s astounding and time is fleeting as I jump to the left and skip to the right. I follow the white plimsolls in long lines of vigorous hip twisting, my heart thumping as ‘pi-a-pia-piano’ tinkles from the ebony and ivory of my fingers, my Dambusters’ aircraft sweeping through the room.

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