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British Summer Time Begins: The School Summer Holidays 1930-1980
British Summer Time Begins is about summer holidays of the mid-twentieth century and how they were spent, as recounted to Ysenda Maxtone-Graham in vividly remembered detail by people who were there. Through this prism, it paints a revealing portrait of twentieth-century Britain in summertime: how we were, how families functioned, what houses and gardens and streets were like, what journeys were like, and what people did all day in their free time. It explores their expectations, hopes, fears and habits, the rules or lack of rules under which they lived, their happiness and sadness, their sense of being treasured or neglected - all within living memory, from pre-war summers to the late 1970s.
Ysenda takes us back to the long stretch of time from the last days of June till the early days of September - those months when the term-time self was cast off and you could become the person you really were, and you had (if you were lucky) enough hours in the endless succession of days to become good at the things that would later define your adulthood.
The 'showpiece' part of the summer holidays was 'the summer holiday', when families took off to the seaside, or to grandparents' houses teeming with cousins, or on early package holidays to France or Spain, siblings wedged into the back of small cars, roof-racks clattering, mothers preparing picnics. British Summer Time Begins is as much about the long weeks either side of that holiday as the trip itself: the weeks when nothing much officially happened, boredom often lurked nearby, and you vanished for hours on end, nobody much knowing or even caring where you were. Could it be that those unscheduled days were actually the most important and formative of your life?
From the author of the beloved Terms & Conditions, British Summer Time Begins is a delightful, nostalgic and joyous celebration of summers.
Ysenda takes us back to the long stretch of time from the last days of June till the early days of September - those months when the term-time self was cast off and you could become the person you really were, and you had (if you were lucky) enough hours in the endless succession of days to become good at the things that would later define your adulthood.
The 'showpiece' part of the summer holidays was 'the summer holiday', when families took off to the seaside, or to grandparents' houses teeming with cousins, or on early package holidays to France or Spain, siblings wedged into the back of small cars, roof-racks clattering, mothers preparing picnics. British Summer Time Begins is as much about the long weeks either side of that holiday as the trip itself: the weeks when nothing much officially happened, boredom often lurked nearby, and you vanished for hours on end, nobody much knowing or even caring where you were. Could it be that those unscheduled days were actually the most important and formative of your life?
From the author of the beloved Terms & Conditions, British Summer Time Begins is a delightful, nostalgic and joyous celebration of summers.
355 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 9, 2020
31 people are currently reading
315 people want to read
About the author
Ysenda Maxtone Graham
21 books26 followersYsenda Maxtone Graham was born in 1962 and educated at The King's School, Canterbury and Girton College, Cambridge. She has written widely for many newspapers and magazines, as features writer, book reviewer and columnist. She is the author of The Church Hesitant: A Portrait of the Church of England; The Real Mrs Miniver, which was shortlisted for the Whitbread Biography of the Year Award; and Mr Tibbits's Catholic School. She lives in London with her husband and their three sons.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 48 reviews
January 7, 2022
The book concentrates on the school holidays of working class and upper class kids. Those that go hop picking and those that go to the country estate in Scotland. I'm somewhere in the middle. I was reading Underworld: The inside story of Britain’s professional and organised crime recently and it seemed the Kray brothers, identical twins, began their careers in violence early. One woman remembers that they would pick up girls and throw them in the stream and then when the parents found out, always blame the other twin.
It isn't a terribly interesting book, but it does make me sad that the freedom we had back then before electronic devices keeping tabs on us and the enormous upswing in crime against children making people afraid to let their kids go out alone has meant that children are more housebound. If they live in the city, they go to the mall, if they live in the country, they have to stay in the garden. And mostly they don't want to go out, they want to play on their tablets. Electronics have brought us a new world, but it is nothing like as nice and free as it was back then.
__________
Back then My family were neither rich nor poor and we had a detached house in a village in Wales with the little school a half a mile down the road, where children were free to roam anywhere they pleased all day long, provided they were home in time for tea.
The garden backed on to endless countryside we called 'the common'. My friends and I dressed in shorts and t-shirts would take sandwiches, fruit and biscuits and go out for the day exploring. We would climb trees, have races, feed the horses, pick buttercups, daisies, wild vetch we called slipper orchids or go and watch the motorway being built. Sometimes we would just lie on the grass in the sunshine chatting and playing with the dog.
When we were 9 and had two wheeler bikes we were allowed to go to Caerleon, about 9 miles away (stopping at my Grandma's along the way for refreshments) to see the Roman ruins and play in the amphitheatre (and have tea with my great aunt who made the best meringues in existence and had swings in her garden).
We, my two best friends and me, would never allow the boys to come with us as they always wanted to take over, and brought cap guns and ropes to play at cowboys and indians or similar. We were always assigned the roles of captured. Boys never went along with what we wanted, we had to do what they did, so unless our parents insisted, we wouln't let them to play with us.
If we got bored we would go to the park, a huge park with lots of swings and slides. But we would always be home in time for tea. No one kept tabs on us. It was quite safe.
Well almost. Horace was not safe. He would lurk on the park benches, a man who would be called a 'slow learner' now and offer us girls money to show him our knickers. I told my mother but in her usual uncaring way said that Horace was harmless. I am amazed that he was able to do this day after day and no one ever stopped him, not the park keepers nor parents.
Then there would be two weeks in Bournemouth in a beach hotel. I fell in love for the first time at 6 with Stuart. We were inseparable and walked everywhere hand-in-hand, that was for two summers. Once we took a house for the summer in Tenby harbour where the whole family and our housekeeper decamped to and my father would join us for weekends. One summer it was a houseboat on the Norfolk Broads where my father sailed us from pub to pub for lunch and tea (we were too young for dinner). It was fun when my brother and I were allowed to take the wheel and crash it into the reeds!
Once I got to 8, it was all holidays abroad. The first year we went to Italy, to a kosher hotel as we were Orthodox Jewish, although I later found out it was really my mother, my father would go off for bacon breakfasts with the newspaper as company. We flew to Nice and then got a coach to the hotel and all of us went to bed. Except me. I got my bucket and spade and went exploring looking for the best beach. Hours later my parents, frantic, found me a couple of miles away. Grounded. Not allowed to swim.
That got me burned, I am very fair. Confined to bed in agony with huge blisters. No one used sun protection then, we slathered ourselves in Ambre Solaire oil and fried in the sun. The high spot was sitting at the bar on the high stools with my brother, drinking cocktails of soda water and grenadine with a cherry on a stick, and thinking we looked sophisticated. Over the years I learned to speak Italian. Then we started to go to Spain and Portugal, and I found a boyfriend in Portugal and that was the last holiday with my parents.
__________
Now. I had a flar in London and I wanted my son to be as city-savvy as his cousin who lived in Edgware. So we would leave the island the day after school broke up. It was a 24 hour journey - first a boat, two planes and then either a train and a taxi home. If we were going straight to Wales my mother would send a car for us and we would sleep the whole of the M4, dazed by travel and jet lag. Two days before school started, we returned back to the Caribbean.
In London, we went to museums, mostly to see dinosaurs or the transport museum where my son could 'drive' a bus or train. We went to art galleries, the theatre, movies, and Garfunkels and McDonalds and Pizza Hut, anywhere that had pizza or chicken nuggets and gave away free toys or crayons and nowhere else at all, my son had a very limited palate back then. Sometimes, with his cousins it was bouncy castles and ice cream in the park or going to Regent's Park Zoo to see the lions and ride on the elephants.
There was always a week in Wales for my son, just two days for me, my mother made it very plain that it was my son she loved and would visibly grit her teeth at me by the second day, I didn't mind, a few days of freedom! My son and I would go away for two or three weeks, usually Bali as I had business there with clothes designs from my friend's European company and my own boutique (pre bookshop days) and sometimes stop in Bangkok for a few days. We also went to Mexico, the US, Costa Rica, anywhere really. I wanted my kid not just to be an island child with as much freedom as I had growing up but also to be more sophisticated and learn to move with ease anywhere in the world.
__________
Now-now Of course doesn't really exist. We are living in the limbo of Covid where travel is difficult. We were going to Bangkok this month but omicron has meant that quarantine is 7 days minimum. Phuket, an island, is sand-boxed but it's basically Ibiza-in-the-East, full of people on deck chairs, in the clubs and getting drunk everywhere. The fabulous beaches aren't as beautiful as ours and ours are empty, totally thanks to Covid. Not our sort of place. When you live on a beautiful island with nothing to do, an escape is to a city! We are thinking now of Mexico.
What about you? What did you do in the long school holidays growing up? And now?
__________
If this was a school report, the book would get a B and a remark, 'good attempt, needs to try harder'. 3 stars.
It isn't a terribly interesting book, but it does make me sad that the freedom we had back then before electronic devices keeping tabs on us and the enormous upswing in crime against children making people afraid to let their kids go out alone has meant that children are more housebound. If they live in the city, they go to the mall, if they live in the country, they have to stay in the garden. And mostly they don't want to go out, they want to play on their tablets. Electronics have brought us a new world, but it is nothing like as nice and free as it was back then.
__________
Back then My family were neither rich nor poor and we had a detached house in a village in Wales with the little school a half a mile down the road, where children were free to roam anywhere they pleased all day long, provided they were home in time for tea.
The garden backed on to endless countryside we called 'the common'. My friends and I dressed in shorts and t-shirts would take sandwiches, fruit and biscuits and go out for the day exploring. We would climb trees, have races, feed the horses, pick buttercups, daisies, wild vetch we called slipper orchids or go and watch the motorway being built. Sometimes we would just lie on the grass in the sunshine chatting and playing with the dog.
When we were 9 and had two wheeler bikes we were allowed to go to Caerleon, about 9 miles away (stopping at my Grandma's along the way for refreshments) to see the Roman ruins and play in the amphitheatre (and have tea with my great aunt who made the best meringues in existence and had swings in her garden).
We, my two best friends and me, would never allow the boys to come with us as they always wanted to take over, and brought cap guns and ropes to play at cowboys and indians or similar. We were always assigned the roles of captured. Boys never went along with what we wanted, we had to do what they did, so unless our parents insisted, we wouln't let them to play with us.
If we got bored we would go to the park, a huge park with lots of swings and slides. But we would always be home in time for tea. No one kept tabs on us. It was quite safe.
Well almost. Horace was not safe. He would lurk on the park benches, a man who would be called a 'slow learner' now and offer us girls money to show him our knickers. I told my mother but in her usual uncaring way said that Horace was harmless. I am amazed that he was able to do this day after day and no one ever stopped him, not the park keepers nor parents.
Then there would be two weeks in Bournemouth in a beach hotel. I fell in love for the first time at 6 with Stuart. We were inseparable and walked everywhere hand-in-hand, that was for two summers. Once we took a house for the summer in Tenby harbour where the whole family and our housekeeper decamped to and my father would join us for weekends. One summer it was a houseboat on the Norfolk Broads where my father sailed us from pub to pub for lunch and tea (we were too young for dinner). It was fun when my brother and I were allowed to take the wheel and crash it into the reeds!
Once I got to 8, it was all holidays abroad. The first year we went to Italy, to a kosher hotel as we were Orthodox Jewish, although I later found out it was really my mother, my father would go off for bacon breakfasts with the newspaper as company. We flew to Nice and then got a coach to the hotel and all of us went to bed. Except me. I got my bucket and spade and went exploring looking for the best beach. Hours later my parents, frantic, found me a couple of miles away. Grounded. Not allowed to swim.
That got me burned, I am very fair. Confined to bed in agony with huge blisters. No one used sun protection then, we slathered ourselves in Ambre Solaire oil and fried in the sun. The high spot was sitting at the bar on the high stools with my brother, drinking cocktails of soda water and grenadine with a cherry on a stick, and thinking we looked sophisticated. Over the years I learned to speak Italian. Then we started to go to Spain and Portugal, and I found a boyfriend in Portugal and that was the last holiday with my parents.
__________
Now. I had a flar in London and I wanted my son to be as city-savvy as his cousin who lived in Edgware. So we would leave the island the day after school broke up. It was a 24 hour journey - first a boat, two planes and then either a train and a taxi home. If we were going straight to Wales my mother would send a car for us and we would sleep the whole of the M4, dazed by travel and jet lag. Two days before school started, we returned back to the Caribbean.
In London, we went to museums, mostly to see dinosaurs or the transport museum where my son could 'drive' a bus or train. We went to art galleries, the theatre, movies, and Garfunkels and McDonalds and Pizza Hut, anywhere that had pizza or chicken nuggets and gave away free toys or crayons and nowhere else at all, my son had a very limited palate back then. Sometimes, with his cousins it was bouncy castles and ice cream in the park or going to Regent's Park Zoo to see the lions and ride on the elephants.
There was always a week in Wales for my son, just two days for me, my mother made it very plain that it was my son she loved and would visibly grit her teeth at me by the second day, I didn't mind, a few days of freedom! My son and I would go away for two or three weeks, usually Bali as I had business there with clothes designs from my friend's European company and my own boutique (pre bookshop days) and sometimes stop in Bangkok for a few days. We also went to Mexico, the US, Costa Rica, anywhere really. I wanted my kid not just to be an island child with as much freedom as I had growing up but also to be more sophisticated and learn to move with ease anywhere in the world.
__________
Now-now Of course doesn't really exist. We are living in the limbo of Covid where travel is difficult. We were going to Bangkok this month but omicron has meant that quarantine is 7 days minimum. Phuket, an island, is sand-boxed but it's basically Ibiza-in-the-East, full of people on deck chairs, in the clubs and getting drunk everywhere. The fabulous beaches aren't as beautiful as ours and ours are empty, totally thanks to Covid. Not our sort of place. When you live on a beautiful island with nothing to do, an escape is to a city! We are thinking now of Mexico.
What about you? What did you do in the long school holidays growing up? And now?
__________
If this was a school report, the book would get a B and a remark, 'good attempt, needs to try harder'. 3 stars.
July 25, 2025
Yes and no. This is a comfortable and undemanding read which disconcertingly highlights the best and worst of the British parenting styles of our childhood.
Routine-loving, class-driven, stoic and harried individuals abound and despite the ‘freedom’ of those long summer holidays, there are often quite poignant examples of neglect too (and not always of the ‘benign’ variety). Children, once birthed, are frequently viewed as an alien species and best left to their own peculiar habits (especially if having to spend money or personal time is involved). No wonder we found such pleasure in nicking off to get up to mischief between breakfast and dinner (and woe betide the middle-class child that voiced the word ‘tea’)!
Yet, gossipy, repetitive, celebrity name-dropping, and somewhat chummy as it is, ‘The British Summer Holidays Begin’ tries hard and will reward many with countless memories of non-gourmet food, disappointing weather and the eternal hope that beyond the horizon lies something surely more promising.
Routine-loving, class-driven, stoic and harried individuals abound and despite the ‘freedom’ of those long summer holidays, there are often quite poignant examples of neglect too (and not always of the ‘benign’ variety). Children, once birthed, are frequently viewed as an alien species and best left to their own peculiar habits (especially if having to spend money or personal time is involved). No wonder we found such pleasure in nicking off to get up to mischief between breakfast and dinner (and woe betide the middle-class child that voiced the word ‘tea’)!
Yet, gossipy, repetitive, celebrity name-dropping, and somewhat chummy as it is, ‘The British Summer Holidays Begin’ tries hard and will reward many with countless memories of non-gourmet food, disappointing weather and the eternal hope that beyond the horizon lies something surely more promising.
July 5, 2021
There's a clear romanticised nostalgia to a bygone era that reminded me of former older work colleges when talking about the good old days.
The author herself talks about kids today only being on video games during the school summer holidays thus deciding 1980 to be the cut off period.
Having grown up in 90's myself I can say that was completely untrue - there were lots of instances that reminded me of my own childhood.
As many reviewers have already mentioned it's the working class sections that are the most interesting.
There were definitely moments that reminded me of my dad's viewpoints.
I too use to collect the Beano and I had to smile at the mentions of discovering how many Doctor Who novelisations and Agatha Chrstie mysteries there actually are (though I'm doing this as an adult!).
It was the Goosebumps books for me, happy to see the next one in the series available in the bookshop each month.
Aside from a day trip to Dieppe with school, I didn't go holidaying abroad until I was 17.
Many summers were cub camps and various trips to the parks - it also helped that we live in a seaside resort of Brighton so many trips to the beach.
I felt that the author was just missing the point that there's a lot more organised actives for youngsters now, plus disposable income helps too.
I'm sure social media and smartphones must have an impact today but so too Brexit and a pandemic - they technology available has definitely helped keep me sane this plast year!
But I do wonder if the sorts of pastimes mentioned will be more common placed in the years to come...
The author herself talks about kids today only being on video games during the school summer holidays thus deciding 1980 to be the cut off period.
Having grown up in 90's myself I can say that was completely untrue - there were lots of instances that reminded me of my own childhood.
As many reviewers have already mentioned it's the working class sections that are the most interesting.
There were definitely moments that reminded me of my dad's viewpoints.
I too use to collect the Beano and I had to smile at the mentions of discovering how many Doctor Who novelisations and Agatha Chrstie mysteries there actually are (though I'm doing this as an adult!).
It was the Goosebumps books for me, happy to see the next one in the series available in the bookshop each month.
Aside from a day trip to Dieppe with school, I didn't go holidaying abroad until I was 17.
Many summers were cub camps and various trips to the parks - it also helped that we live in a seaside resort of Brighton so many trips to the beach.
I felt that the author was just missing the point that there's a lot more organised actives for youngsters now, plus disposable income helps too.
I'm sure social media and smartphones must have an impact today but so too Brexit and a pandemic - they technology available has definitely helped keep me sane this plast year!
But I do wonder if the sorts of pastimes mentioned will be more common placed in the years to come...
March 27, 2022
mulle täitsa meeldis see raamat, sest siin lihtsalt jagati hästi paljude inimeste mälestusi lapsepõlve suvedest, ilma pikema heietamiseta, fragmentidena. ja sellised asjad on alati... huvitavad ja üldiselt ka hubased, ehkki muidugi selgub, et enamus 20. sajandi keskpaiga suvesid Suurbritannias olid pigem vaesed, pigem külmad ja vihmased, pigem vähema kui rohkema ema- ja isaarmastusega. ja ikkagi, paistab, oli laps olla põhiosas päris tore.
veidi närvidele käis siin autori moraliseeriv positsioon, kus ta kogu aeg võttis hoiaku, et kõik see vaesus, hoolitsusepuudus ja klassisüsteemist tulenevad veidrad piirangud (eriti kõrgemate klasside arusaam, et nii maitsva toidu, mänguasjade kui meelelahutuse pakkumine lastele on väga vulgaarne idee, ja et kogu aeg peabki olema külm, igav ja ebamugav) oli lastele ainult hea, kasvatas iseloomu ja aitas neil olla loomingulised. lõppu on lisatud terve peatükk ekraanidevastast ränti ja selle peatüki eest võtan terve tärni maha, sest mul oli lihtsalt nii kõrini sellest "noorus on hukas" halast.
sams meeldib, et autor märgib ära ja toob välja, kuidas kogu selle elu all kannatasid mitte ainult lapsed, vaid kohati veel rohkem ka emad - igasugune majapidamine, söögitegemine ja laste üldine elushoidmine oli ju ainult nende kanda ja kui sinna veel lisandusid papade kapriisid sel teemal, kuidas täpselt on õige reisida, telkida või rannas käia, siis... nojah.
huvitav on vaadata, kuidas teised arvustajad (britid ise muidugi) võtavad tärne maha selle eest, et neid sunnitakse lugema ka teiste laste lapsepõlvest - nad lähevad hästi närvi, kui selgub, et mingid teised klassid kui nende endi oma olid ikkagi ka olemas ja elasid teistsugust elu. põhiliselt muidugi selles suunas, et "miks te räägite sellest, kuidas keegi internaatkoolist koju sõitis või kuskil kolooniates vanemate juures suve veetis, meie siin sel ajal saime hommikusöögiks külma mürki!"
jälle kord üks neid raamatuid, mis üksjagu vist aitab briti kultuuri ja hinge mõista.
veidi närvidele käis siin autori moraliseeriv positsioon, kus ta kogu aeg võttis hoiaku, et kõik see vaesus, hoolitsusepuudus ja klassisüsteemist tulenevad veidrad piirangud (eriti kõrgemate klasside arusaam, et nii maitsva toidu, mänguasjade kui meelelahutuse pakkumine lastele on väga vulgaarne idee, ja et kogu aeg peabki olema külm, igav ja ebamugav) oli lastele ainult hea, kasvatas iseloomu ja aitas neil olla loomingulised. lõppu on lisatud terve peatükk ekraanidevastast ränti ja selle peatüki eest võtan terve tärni maha, sest mul oli lihtsalt nii kõrini sellest "noorus on hukas" halast.
sams meeldib, et autor märgib ära ja toob välja, kuidas kogu selle elu all kannatasid mitte ainult lapsed, vaid kohati veel rohkem ka emad - igasugune majapidamine, söögitegemine ja laste üldine elushoidmine oli ju ainult nende kanda ja kui sinna veel lisandusid papade kapriisid sel teemal, kuidas täpselt on õige reisida, telkida või rannas käia, siis... nojah.
huvitav on vaadata, kuidas teised arvustajad (britid ise muidugi) võtavad tärne maha selle eest, et neid sunnitakse lugema ka teiste laste lapsepõlvest - nad lähevad hästi närvi, kui selgub, et mingid teised klassid kui nende endi oma olid ikkagi ka olemas ja elasid teistsugust elu. põhiliselt muidugi selles suunas, et "miks te räägite sellest, kuidas keegi internaatkoolist koju sõitis või kuskil kolooniates vanemate juures suve veetis, meie siin sel ajal saime hommikusöögiks külma mürki!"
jälle kord üks neid raamatuid, mis üksjagu vist aitab briti kultuuri ja hinge mõista.
June 29, 2021
I enjoyed this comprehensive look at how English children spent their summer holidays in what is called 'the past' - 1930 to 1980 - although that puts my own childhood in this category so I guess that makes me 'old' as well. Not having grown up in the UK but having lived here for 30+ years, I'm always intrigued by the differences between British and American culture, but also intrigued by the similarities. So this kind of book lets me look deeply into the topic and glean little nuggets. It's also great source for anecdotes, and I can see myself asking many people how they spent their holidays. One of my favourite stories is the one wherein a father prepares his children for their impending holiday by having them set up tents in the back garden and then take them down - for several days in a row. Now that spells holiday!
August 11, 2020
There is a great book to be written about school holidays in Britain but unfortunately this isn’t it
Basically, it’s too posh to resonate with me - too many tales of leaving boarding schools and travelling to dusty shooting lodges or family properties in Scotland, and not enough kids in high waisters & t-shirts poking white dog turds with lolly sticks whilst waiting for the Alpine lorry
Basically, it’s too posh to resonate with me - too many tales of leaving boarding schools and travelling to dusty shooting lodges or family properties in Scotland, and not enough kids in high waisters & t-shirts poking white dog turds with lolly sticks whilst waiting for the Alpine lorry
June 19, 2021
Marvellous evocation of pre-internet play and exploratory fun during the seemingly endless school hols. Tries to represent a variety of experiences although the voices quoted seem to skew wealthy and privileged. But it's full of accurate and telling detail, and will make anyone older than 30 misty-eyed with nostalgia.
July 21, 2020
Fantastic book, lots of memories from the school holidays. Nostalgic, yet not written with rose tinted glasses on. A pleasure to read, a pleasure to remember a simpler time and innocent childhood.
August 12, 2020
This is a really engrossing book filled with memories of other people's summers. I have read quite a few reviews that have said it only covers 'posh' people's reflections but, whilst it's true that it does have stories about boarding schools and country estates (plus some bitter memories from Rachel Johnson alongside some photographs copyrighted to the Johnson Family Archives) there are also recollections of caravans, camping, Butlins, playing around a lamppost, and having absolutely nothing to do.
It's inevitable but right that the books should conclude with the point that these days children spend their holidays safe at home around various screens - physically safe but, possibly, with decaying imaginations and social skills. There is no playing out and no unscheduled, spontaneous interaction between children any more.
It made me think back nostalgically to my own 1980s and '90s summers as I read it in the exact same place I have spent two weeks every year since I was 9 alongside my friend of 30 years. She now has three children and is starting divorce proceedings against her husband who has addiction issues. I am here with my own husband and two children, the eldest of whom has autism and severe depression and doesn't want to leave the cottage. The younger one is lonely and isolated after months of COVID-19 lockdown. Oh, to be 9 again, playing 40-40 in the field with the other children staying or living here, and stopping only for bedtime or a lemonade and Jaffa Cake snack brought out by my mum on a tray.
It's inevitable but right that the books should conclude with the point that these days children spend their holidays safe at home around various screens - physically safe but, possibly, with decaying imaginations and social skills. There is no playing out and no unscheduled, spontaneous interaction between children any more.
It made me think back nostalgically to my own 1980s and '90s summers as I read it in the exact same place I have spent two weeks every year since I was 9 alongside my friend of 30 years. She now has three children and is starting divorce proceedings against her husband who has addiction issues. I am here with my own husband and two children, the eldest of whom has autism and severe depression and doesn't want to leave the cottage. The younger one is lonely and isolated after months of COVID-19 lockdown. Oh, to be 9 again, playing 40-40 in the field with the other children staying or living here, and stopping only for bedtime or a lemonade and Jaffa Cake snack brought out by my mum on a tray.
May 12, 2021
got bored with this....
August 30, 2021
Brought back some memories but too much emphasis on richer children for my taste.
January 9, 2021
This would get a better review if it were not for the first half of the book. In summary the first half goes something along the lines of:
'After Nanny picked me up from boarding school in the Bentley, we drove to our hunting lodge in Perthshire and ate venison and scones with lashings of raspberry jam, then we rode our ponies into town and then after buying the latest copy of the Famous 5 we returned home and played Monopoly - all 45 of us, even the dogs. I do so miss the dogs.'
I nearly chucked the book across the room after reading about this other Britain: high tea, gymkhanas and gamekeepers. But then the book starts to talk to the other 90% and then it becomes interesting and wistful and you get a real sense that the author is fulfilling a service by documenting all these experiences that would otherwise be lost between the cracks of history. I loved the adventures across Europe and stashing baked beans behind the footwells, stories of bible camps and life in London after the war hop picking and going to Margate.
The problem is is that there is just not enough of that. The later half of the book echoes my experiences of summer holidays but that should have been the book. Not telling us how the privileged few passed idyllic summers in country piles fishing and shooting.
Lastly, the author makes a fair point that our children now are screen obsessed (this is true to a certain extent) and mentioned that they are involved in multi-play. I had to look it up. Oh! Multiplayer. She had me lost for a minute...
'After Nanny picked me up from boarding school in the Bentley, we drove to our hunting lodge in Perthshire and ate venison and scones with lashings of raspberry jam, then we rode our ponies into town and then after buying the latest copy of the Famous 5 we returned home and played Monopoly - all 45 of us, even the dogs. I do so miss the dogs.'
I nearly chucked the book across the room after reading about this other Britain: high tea, gymkhanas and gamekeepers. But then the book starts to talk to the other 90% and then it becomes interesting and wistful and you get a real sense that the author is fulfilling a service by documenting all these experiences that would otherwise be lost between the cracks of history. I loved the adventures across Europe and stashing baked beans behind the footwells, stories of bible camps and life in London after the war hop picking and going to Margate.
The problem is is that there is just not enough of that. The later half of the book echoes my experiences of summer holidays but that should have been the book. Not telling us how the privileged few passed idyllic summers in country piles fishing and shooting.
Lastly, the author makes a fair point that our children now are screen obsessed (this is true to a certain extent) and mentioned that they are involved in multi-play. I had to look it up. Oh! Multiplayer. She had me lost for a minute...
July 25, 2020
Perfect summer reading for anyone who remembers playing outside all day and every day and only coming home for meals during a six week holiday which lasted for ever. What was interesting was both the evidence of the class divide and the changes pre and post World War Two. I particularly enjoyed being reminded of the things fathers used to say or do;get up extra early to beat the traffic - which meant leaving when it was still dark to avoid driving through London and breathing in all that wonderful fresh air, even though it was blowing a gale, pouring with rain and the wind whipped the sand off the beaches.
It is more than a trip down memory lane. The absence of materiel possessions with children cutting out the toes of shoes to create sandals is unbelievable today when de-cluttering is commonplace. But the descriptions of the lives of married women during this era is a stark reminder of how far we have come in gender equality while the pandemic has shown us how far we still have to go.
It is more than a trip down memory lane. The absence of materiel possessions with children cutting out the toes of shoes to create sandals is unbelievable today when de-cluttering is commonplace. But the descriptions of the lives of married women during this era is a stark reminder of how far we have come in gender equality while the pandemic has shown us how far we still have to go.
August 15, 2021
Not sure if this is a 4 or a 3.5 but I'm giving it a 4 for its nostalgia value. The story of how British children spent their summer holidays between the 1930s and 1980 when computer games arrived. The author uses a wealth of anecdotes to paint a picture of the experience of the summer holidays with their long periods of unstructured time when children were left to their own devices, meals in restaurants were nearly unheard of and foreign holidays were rare. A lot of the experiences of the interviewees felt very familiar to me, but I didn't love the book quite as much as I had anticipated.
August 24, 2020
Wonderful portrayal of past summer holidays 0f 40-90 years ago. Shows the freedom we once had and our ability to go off away from home and make our our own games and pastimes. Entertainment on no budget whatsoever. No theme parks and attractions here!
February 8, 2025
I first put this book on my wish list when I saw it reviewed back in 2020, and it sat there and sat there, mainly because I don’t really read much non-fiction. Except, just lately I have read a lot of non-fiction, so I suppose the dam broke. I was in MK with my OH and went on a Waterstone’s raid. And, these days, I don’t look at the fiction sections much at all; I make a bee-line for the History corner.
The subtitle here is How we spent the School Summer Holidays 1930 – 1980, and it therefore could not be more perfectly pitched for me. My childhood (1963 to some indeterminate point in the late 1970s) sits comfortably in there. There was much recognition, and joy in the recognition, of all the people who had similar experiences.
Before I dig deeper, a couple of things. First of all, I loved this book from cover to cover and found it an absolute pleasure to read. There was pleasure, too, in the remembering and linking, but I think those details can wait for another day. It says much about the quality of this book that I didn’t even resent the over-representation of the private school crowd, the posh and the privileged. The author does her best to cover the whole social spectrum, and it was interesting to note that thrift and lack of luxury characterised the childhoods of so many, even the landed gentry.
The second thing is that I want to avoid the obvious trap of falling into nostalgia and wistful recollection. I will definitely be doing this, but not today. It’s all too easy (especially as a recently retired teacher) to talk about how screens have blighted childhood and that children no longer have enough unstructured, unsupervised time. I think we all know this. But we also have to acknowledge that it isn’t just screens, it’s windscreens, and many other factors that have killed childhoods. When I look at the satellite image of the chalk pit and downs behind the house where I grew up, they’re still there. But there is also a “busway” that replaces the largely unused railway track I used to cross to get up the downs. And instead of the row of allotments between the back gardens and the railway, there are fucking houses. There’s a fucking house at the end of what used to be our back garden. And in front of the house, on the street where I’d play out in the evenings, I can see a dozen cars, many of them obviously (and anti-socially) parked on the pavement.
So, yeah, let’s not blame the kids and their screens. We are responsible for the world in which they now grow up, where people blithely park up on the pavement and there’s no chance of a game of street cricket. Where there are fences and housing estates instead of porous routes through to the open countryside.
This is what the author focuses on, at the beginning of this book: the sense that there were routes and paths through from gardens into woods and fields, ways to get through into the open, away from unlocked front and back doors and parents who didn’t expect to see you, except at meal times.
But the book covers much more. It is structured from the end of one school term to the beginning of the next, and it makes use of the voices and words of many interviewees. Some of them are well known names from the radio or (sigh) politics, but there are also many non-prominent individuals, sharing their memories of summers spent from the Scottish Highlands to Cornwall and (towards the end) abroad, from French campsites to Spanish resorts, colonial Africa and even further afield.
This is my kind of history: the everyday stories of everyday people with suitcases full of baked beans (it wasn’t just Ringo). And, before I wallow in nostalgia for a different post, there are plenty of hints here of things that were not okay. The teenage girls being groped by strange men in hotels; the unhappy marriages; the overloaded cars with no seatbelts; the semi-detached fathers; the mothers slaving away in kitchens; and, yes, the snobbery.
The subtitle here is How we spent the School Summer Holidays 1930 – 1980, and it therefore could not be more perfectly pitched for me. My childhood (1963 to some indeterminate point in the late 1970s) sits comfortably in there. There was much recognition, and joy in the recognition, of all the people who had similar experiences.
Before I dig deeper, a couple of things. First of all, I loved this book from cover to cover and found it an absolute pleasure to read. There was pleasure, too, in the remembering and linking, but I think those details can wait for another day. It says much about the quality of this book that I didn’t even resent the over-representation of the private school crowd, the posh and the privileged. The author does her best to cover the whole social spectrum, and it was interesting to note that thrift and lack of luxury characterised the childhoods of so many, even the landed gentry.
The second thing is that I want to avoid the obvious trap of falling into nostalgia and wistful recollection. I will definitely be doing this, but not today. It’s all too easy (especially as a recently retired teacher) to talk about how screens have blighted childhood and that children no longer have enough unstructured, unsupervised time. I think we all know this. But we also have to acknowledge that it isn’t just screens, it’s windscreens, and many other factors that have killed childhoods. When I look at the satellite image of the chalk pit and downs behind the house where I grew up, they’re still there. But there is also a “busway” that replaces the largely unused railway track I used to cross to get up the downs. And instead of the row of allotments between the back gardens and the railway, there are fucking houses. There’s a fucking house at the end of what used to be our back garden. And in front of the house, on the street where I’d play out in the evenings, I can see a dozen cars, many of them obviously (and anti-socially) parked on the pavement.
So, yeah, let’s not blame the kids and their screens. We are responsible for the world in which they now grow up, where people blithely park up on the pavement and there’s no chance of a game of street cricket. Where there are fences and housing estates instead of porous routes through to the open countryside.
This is what the author focuses on, at the beginning of this book: the sense that there were routes and paths through from gardens into woods and fields, ways to get through into the open, away from unlocked front and back doors and parents who didn’t expect to see you, except at meal times.
But the book covers much more. It is structured from the end of one school term to the beginning of the next, and it makes use of the voices and words of many interviewees. Some of them are well known names from the radio or (sigh) politics, but there are also many non-prominent individuals, sharing their memories of summers spent from the Scottish Highlands to Cornwall and (towards the end) abroad, from French campsites to Spanish resorts, colonial Africa and even further afield.
This is my kind of history: the everyday stories of everyday people with suitcases full of baked beans (it wasn’t just Ringo). And, before I wallow in nostalgia for a different post, there are plenty of hints here of things that were not okay. The teenage girls being groped by strange men in hotels; the unhappy marriages; the overloaded cars with no seatbelts; the semi-detached fathers; the mothers slaving away in kitchens; and, yes, the snobbery.
August 18, 2022
3.75 stars
I was a child at the latter-end of what has been described as the "free-range" era of childhood. A lost age now; a golden age. In other words, I was a child during a time when children were expected to be out of doors - and out of their parent's hair - from breakfast to supper time. There were few activities, camps or special summer treats. The family holiday, such as it was, was rarely glamorous - and nor did it last more than a week or two. Summer meant vast swathes of time in which one could amuse one's self, trifle away the hours, and actually suffer unrelieved boredom.
Although I had an American childhood - and not the British one described in this book - I could relate to much of what it described. It's all a lost era now, forever changed by streaming, smart phones, play stations and inexpensive foreign travel.
This book is an historical study of sorts, and it will be a pure exercise in nostalgia for the readers whose lifetimes and experiences correspond to those bracketed decades of the mid-2oth century. A pleasure to read - as all of Graham's works are for me. Who else would describe September, so aptly, as "brown" and "lugubrious"?
Thanks to Amy @pigeonpostbooks for sharing!
When you step into that balmy ocean of time in mid-July, released from lessons and uniform, you feel as if you're stepping into infinity. You can't even imagine September; It doesn't occur to you that such a brown, lugubrious month will ever arrive. All you can see before you in your imagination is sunlight shimmering on grass and water.
It's this stretch of time that I'm aiming to capture through the recollections of men and women I've spoken to, who were actually there, being children, in the fifty years from 1930 to 1980.
I was a child at the latter-end of what has been described as the "free-range" era of childhood. A lost age now; a golden age. In other words, I was a child during a time when children were expected to be out of doors - and out of their parent's hair - from breakfast to supper time. There were few activities, camps or special summer treats. The family holiday, such as it was, was rarely glamorous - and nor did it last more than a week or two. Summer meant vast swathes of time in which one could amuse one's self, trifle away the hours, and actually suffer unrelieved boredom.
Although I had an American childhood - and not the British one described in this book - I could relate to much of what it described. It's all a lost era now, forever changed by streaming, smart phones, play stations and inexpensive foreign travel.
This book is an historical study of sorts, and it will be a pure exercise in nostalgia for the readers whose lifetimes and experiences correspond to those bracketed decades of the mid-2oth century. A pleasure to read - as all of Graham's works are for me. Who else would describe September, so aptly, as "brown" and "lugubrious"?
Thanks to Amy @pigeonpostbooks for sharing!
August 2, 2022
A mixed bag for me. I'm too young to remember the times talked about in the book, but that was part of the initial attraction. Solidly middle-class here, I was unable to relate to the upper-class kids, towards whom the experiences written about were skewed. I didn't learn much from this book, and the experiences I read about weren't interesting enough to capture the imagination or keep me reading, so I skim-read it until I found something that piqued my interest just that bit more and read that - and these sections were rare.
I spoke to a neighbour who grew up in the 1960s in a working class family, and she told me that every year they (she was one of three sisters) went to Butlins or Pontins, or in a caravan that belonged to a friend of her dad's. She told me lots of stories about their holidays, and about the things that kids she grew up with got up to over the six weeks' holidays, all of which were more interesting than the events discussed within these pages.
The final two chapters try to draw a parallel with the kids of yesteryear compared with those nowadays glued to their screens, but this was not explored very well either. I grew up in the 1980s and organised activities were emerging then, and of course are very prevalent now.
I was determined to finish it, but I wouldn't recommend it. I think the adage "don't judge a book by its cover" is highly appropriate here.
I spoke to a neighbour who grew up in the 1960s in a working class family, and she told me that every year they (she was one of three sisters) went to Butlins or Pontins, or in a caravan that belonged to a friend of her dad's. She told me lots of stories about their holidays, and about the things that kids she grew up with got up to over the six weeks' holidays, all of which were more interesting than the events discussed within these pages.
The final two chapters try to draw a parallel with the kids of yesteryear compared with those nowadays glued to their screens, but this was not explored very well either. I grew up in the 1980s and organised activities were emerging then, and of course are very prevalent now.
I was determined to finish it, but I wouldn't recommend it. I think the adage "don't judge a book by its cover" is highly appropriate here.
August 16, 2021
Readers of a certain age (anywhere between around fifty and ninety) will get either a warm glow of nostalgia or a painful reminder of childhood, or more probably a mixture of both, when reading British Summer Time Begins. Ysenda Maxtone Graham has had the excellent idea of seeking out hundreds of people’s recollections of the long UK school summer holidays, and has used them to inform this excellent and thoroughly entertaining oral history of just about every possible summer holiday experience it’s possible to imagine, from the days roaming the streets or fields alone or with friends looking for ways to pass the time, to summer holiday jobs; from weeks (or days) at the seaside or camping in a field, to tentative trips abroad, and everything in between. As with Terms and Conditions, her book about life in girls’ boarding schools, British Summer Time Begins doesn’t attempt to be a rigorously academic survey of a hitherto neglected area of social history, but her research is extensive and she has an ear for a story, with the result that this is compulsively readable and enjoyable book.
January 26, 2025
Stories of children spending their summers at old family piles with moats, horses and castles! It felt like I was reading the ‘How to be a good housewife and what’s expected of you” from 1932!!
And there’s plenty to be heard from a fair few with double-barreled names: Bubble Carew-Pole, beat that one if you can?!!
WT-absolute-F ?!
I actually laughed out loud at one passage describing the children being picked up from boarding school not by their parents but by Ricketts the butler!
I was starting to struggle reading these reminiscences that bore no relation to anything I’d been in contact with, when quick-sharp we started to meet and talk to real people! The book saved itself as it reminded me of the school camping trips, car journeys and the lure of a 99.
More a 3.5 but I’ll round up - worth sticking with for the memories it did eventually surface.
And there’s plenty to be heard from a fair few with double-barreled names: Bubble Carew-Pole, beat that one if you can?!!
WT-absolute-F ?!
I actually laughed out loud at one passage describing the children being picked up from boarding school not by their parents but by Ricketts the butler!
I was starting to struggle reading these reminiscences that bore no relation to anything I’d been in contact with, when quick-sharp we started to meet and talk to real people! The book saved itself as it reminded me of the school camping trips, car journeys and the lure of a 99.
More a 3.5 but I’ll round up - worth sticking with for the memories it did eventually surface.
May 26, 2021
I was disappointed that so much of the book wasn’t about more ‘normal’ people. There’s a lot of class holidays mentioned, coming home from boarding school etc. Did some of the information come from research for her other books? Or is it that they had more interesting lives and holidays?
I went abroad in 1959 and 1963 (my father was a teacher), along with another family the first time, yet the impression given in the book was that non-rich people didn’t go abroad till much later. The sections covering camping and dormobiles should have been longer too, given that’s what a lot of people did from the 1950s onwards.
Finally: Why does the author keep referring to Juliet Gardiner as being adopted?
I went abroad in 1959 and 1963 (my father was a teacher), along with another family the first time, yet the impression given in the book was that non-rich people didn’t go abroad till much later. The sections covering camping and dormobiles should have been longer too, given that’s what a lot of people did from the 1950s onwards.
Finally: Why does the author keep referring to Juliet Gardiner as being adopted?
October 17, 2023
I love social history, so I really enjoyed this book which looks back at the long summer school holidays from the 1930s through to the 80s. The comparisons between the decades, and also between the various social classes, were very interesting. Some children would travel by plane (sometimes making up to five stops on the way, like being on a flying bus!) to go 'home' from boarding school when their parents (mostly their fathers) worked abroad, whilst for others, a day trip to the nearest seaside was their holiday, if they were lucky. Much of it brought back fond memories of times when my own summers seemed hot and endless! I picked this up on a whim and definitely need to see what else (if anything) Ysenda Maxtone Graham has written.
January 15, 2021
I did enjoy this book. My holidays to Tenby, Hampshire and the Isle of Wight in the 1970s with various family members are brought to mind, I’d forgotten about the scheduled stops in Cirencester, Melksham to name two, which take me back when I hear them even now, packed lunches on the beach, sunburn. This book is about an enormous variety of British childhood holidays, some happy, some not so happy. A lot of research has gone into the book, it is well worth a read for nostalgia and times gone by!
August 27, 2022
Several enjoyable chapters on how children used to spend their free time but many less enjoyable chapters on more specific topics such as parents, holidays abroad, international boarding school students…
1930 to 1980 is a large time frame, and it was not always clear which era was being discussed, and there was too much generalizing and conclusion drawing by the author, particularly given the limited research that seemed to have been undertaken.
As other reviewers have mentioned, the anecdotes are skewed towards the wealthy.
1930 to 1980 is a large time frame, and it was not always clear which era was being discussed, and there was too much generalizing and conclusion drawing by the author, particularly given the limited research that seemed to have been undertaken.
As other reviewers have mentioned, the anecdotes are skewed towards the wealthy.
August 10, 2024
a good idea, poorly executed
This author seems to think people were either poverty stricken working class or upper middle class (rich or poor). My experiences in 50’s and 60’s, my son’s in the 70’s are totally neglected, ignored. I’m sad that I’ve read a book set in my childhood that had very few points of only half recognition. It should have been interesting and nostalgic but as people like me were unrepresented it wasn’t.
Further the author persists in making unfounded, often judgemental, theories and stereotypes, especially in her attitude to fathers.
‘
This author seems to think people were either poverty stricken working class or upper middle class (rich or poor). My experiences in 50’s and 60’s, my son’s in the 70’s are totally neglected, ignored. I’m sad that I’ve read a book set in my childhood that had very few points of only half recognition. It should have been interesting and nostalgic but as people like me were unrepresented it wasn’t.
Further the author persists in making unfounded, often judgemental, theories and stereotypes, especially in her attitude to fathers.
‘
May 16, 2021
Lots of nostalgia for summer times which now seem worlds away. Recognised quite a few of the scenarios within the pages. Laughed out loud at some of the escapades and especially dads theories. Very noticeable how mothers and wives were either complete drudges or else had the money to completely ignore their children and take off with their husbands (dads apparently did what they wanted anyway and my own certainly did)
March 25, 2024
This is such a delightful and fun book, so easy to read, so full of nostalgia and familiar scenarios!!
Based on interviews with a wide cross section of folk born between 1930 and 1980 it is brilliantly divided into sections all related to aspects of the summer holidays.........the staggering 6 weeks of freedom when school breaks up in July and so it's childhood memories from those long for weeks off! Both Steve and I loved it and that's very unusual and we both raced through it!
Based on interviews with a wide cross section of folk born between 1930 and 1980 it is brilliantly divided into sections all related to aspects of the summer holidays.........the staggering 6 weeks of freedom when school breaks up in July and so it's childhood memories from those long for weeks off! Both Steve and I loved it and that's very unusual and we both raced through it!
March 27, 2021
A welcome distraction during lockdown. Evoked so many memories and for that this book was very enjoyable. I was however frustrated by the lack of depth which I think was created by the books structure - the inclusion of so many ‘sound bites’ relating to the same families but scattered throughout the book. I think I may have enjoyed it more had the book been edited differently.
July 29, 2021
So many memories - and not many that I couldn’t relate to. Yes, there is a clear ‘rose tinted glasses’ feeling but who want the rainy, boring days to dominate. Although it’s a little documentary in its style, plenty to make you smile cuz and wish that kids over the last 30 years could raise their eyes from the screen and walk off the the woods or the fields.
November 13, 2021
A lovely nostalgic read for those of a certain age,or even those interested what we as an older generation got up to when we were young . interviewing people of all social stratas covers many different ways of recreational activities,some costing money others looking for free Ways of turning their leisure time into fun times
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