Class and the Griswald Experience

The week we were at Combe Haven the resort was filled with - in the American vernacular - working class families.

These were tough looking blokes, plumbers, electricians, welders, men who worked long hours with their hands. Their faces were English, right out of central casting, world weary and weather beaten. Every last one of them looked like they were about to say, 'Right, Guv.'

The women too looked to be out of central casting, with soft, flat facial features. Some had high cheek bones and narrow eyes. 

A lifetime of work made for solid bodies. Though some were big, almost no one was fat like an American. Almost everyone we saw had tattoos, lots of them.

The English children were indistinguishable from our own, and their parents dotted on them even as they down pints of beer and bitter. Many of those tattoos were the names and birthdays of their beloved children.  These parents were going to considerable expense to give their children a special family vacation. Those caravans aren't cheap and ironically rented, ironically, from rich owners.

Parents allowed their children to stay up late. One night a large group of English kids played with our own. They asked after the girl's accents. 'We're Americans!'

The Griswald Experience: Combe Haven

Combe Haven is an all-inclusive resort sitting on an English hillside facing the Channel. It features dozens of caravans (trailers in American parlance), two pubs, a grocery, an arcade, casino, entertainment lounge, indoor and outdoor pool. This being England in late August the indoor pool was quite necessary.

When we say Combe Haven sits on a hillside, we mean Combe Haven sits on a hillside. It's a steep climb up to the pool. At least we got in some exercise.

The staff was pleasant and courteous. We were particularly impressed with the lifeguards, as we used to be one ourselves. When our youngest got a bleeder, one of the lifeguards (Callum) cleaned and bandage the wound and then filled out an accident report. Upon giving him our a address Callum said, 'Wow.'

Our caravan had three small bedrooms, a kitchen, TV area and two small bathrooms. It was clean and comfortable. It seems most of the caravans have owners who rent them out for the week. One can buy a caravan for 15-20,000 pounds, which is not bad, actually. There's no AC (we're Americans after all) but the nights are so cool one only had to open the windows.

At night the pubs and entertainment lounge are packed. Our first night there we caught a show. Here's an example we found on YouTube:

Our batch of spandex and sequenced clad teenaged lovelies sang hits from the 80's including Poor Some Sugar on Me. You haven't heard PSSoM until you've heard it sung by a teenage girl who's birth was at least 12 years after the song's release.

We were enchanted.

[I bet you were, perv-Ed]

They were adorable. Also, we like British glam rock so...

[Whatever-Ed]

Our girls...

[You mean your daughters or the poor singers you were ogling?-Ed]

Our girls partook in many activities, including archery, zorbing*, and kayaking in a pool; despite having a house with kayaks on an actual lake, which we pointed out.

'But, Daaaad...'

Of course we lost. Kayaking in a pool it is.

**See disclaimer

*You're just gonna have to look that up.
**It's possible we may have gotten the cute, blonde, glasses wearing English lifeguard in the background on purpose.

Hastings Towne

We are back and will be daily blogging  our Griswald experience in reverse.

We wrapped up our trip at Hastings, 19/8 to 24/8.

[Oh look, he's using European style dating. Care to try Celsius temperature?-Ed]

No.

We took a train from London down to Hasting Station, a very comfortable ride slightly better than the AMTRAK in America. We passed idyllic English countryside with ancient English sounding names like Tunbridge Wells (now there's a Viking root-name if we ever heard one*) Broadstair and Folkstone.

We stayed at Combe Haven, an old fashioned English style all inclusive resort with caravans (trailers), onsite pubs, grocery and entertainment.

We were the only Americans at Combe Haven and people expressed surprise and astonishment that Yanks were there.

Combe Haven sits on an ancient hill. From here English lookouts watched the channel since the time of the Romans right on through to the Blitz. Just east of the resort is another ancient hill. Viewing the hillock in the twilight we felt like we were at the end of a Led Zeppelin song.* The resort is frequented by working class families (in the American vernacular) from south, southeastern England. 

The town of Hastings itself is a slightly worn seaside resort with, believe it or not, palm trees. Somehow Hastings has a vague Mediterranean feel, something we would have thought impossible on the English Channel, yet there it was. The Channel itself surprised as well. We expected a roiling body of grey, cruel sea, but instead saw blue waters and even  inviting turquoise close to shore. Speaking of, Hastings is not really a beach town in the American sense, as the beach is not sand but rock and pebble. 

People come here to get some sun and catch the breeze. English late August feels like New England's late September, with cool air never topping 73 degrees and a bracing wind off the Channel. These people were just dying during the previous week's heat wave.

For us the highlight of the town was Hastings Castle, built by William the Bastard upon conquering England. The castle is all ruins which one can walk amongst for 4.99 a head. 

Hasting's Castle sits upon a hill with a commanding view of the town and the shore.

William the Bastard may have gotten across but nobody else has in the last thousand years.

Still British.

*Any English name with ton, tun, tunne - you get the idea- on the end of it has a Viking root, ton being Viking for fort, town or settlement
**Name the song, get a book. Come on guys, this one should be sooooo easy.