Highway to Rhyl.

A few weeks ago my family and I went on a day trip to Rhyl.

If the above sentence resonates with you, chances are you have a good idea of my experiences of family holidays as a child.

That's right, despite the fact that it was summer 2011, I was reminded of some vague notion of childhood experiences. I myself had not visited Rhyl since the early/mid eighties, but as you may know, thousands of people from North Staffs have always gone to Rhyl on their holidays, particularly during the pottery industry's heyday.

I was struck with a real sense of how despite the intervening years, that element of the culture of working-class still pervades the atmosphere; in a cliched sense, nothing has changed. There are still penny arcades that give out garish neon lighting and deafening bleeps and bells; greasy-spooners lining the streets and purveyors of wares that are pretty useless. Anyone who has seen Lindsey Anderson's O Dreamland will understand the sociological and cultural parallels. Granted, the beach-side cafes may now serve decaff lattes instead of some muddy-brown generic 'tea', but this is only a superficial change, not a cultural one.

However, forgetting sweeping ideological statements and focusing on my own personal experiences, I remember not so much my experiences, but photos of my experiences; me in hand-me-down dungarees and sandals, fine sand, murky sea, jellyfish, static caravans and seagulls the size of dogs. It's no wonder I only semi-jokingly claimed "you're not working-class if you've never been to Rhyl or Llandudno."

What's more, not having been to Rhyl since 83/84 means that going there again with a family of my own shows that history repeats itself. It's so special being able to take my kids and my baby to the seaside; a seaside that I, like so many others, went to as a kid. Despite the fact that we may say time changes, some things never change and one day my kids will be taking their kids to some stereotypical British briney beach.

(At the top of the page is me in Rhyl around 1983, and me with my family 2011 not far from where the original was taken. Time changes, but my point is that the habits of the working-class do not. For further reading on how the culture does not change I recommend The Uses of Literacy by Richard Hoggart published in 1957)