It was the summer of 1971 when we had our first family holiday in Llandudno, when I was 11 years old. In 1971, the bill for seven days' bed, breakfast and evening meal for the four of us was a massive £36.75! We repeated the experience every year until 1978, and very little changed each year.

We stayed from 1971 until 1973 at "Hollybank", a boarding house at 129 Trinity Avenue. The first year our hosts were the Curbishley family, who sold the business to Eirwyn ("Snowy") Griffiths and his wife Marilyn, who were our hosts for the next two years.

From 1974 until 1978 we stayed at "Kingsland Villa", an establishment run by Helen Blundell at 37 Caroline Road. The rooms had sinks but the whole seven-room house shared one toilet cubicle! When a tap was turned on, the whole house resounded with a loud gurgling and clanking from the pipes!

Sadly, the traditional small boarding house seems to have gone out of fashion, and both of these places now appear to be private residences.

The summers always seemed hot in those days, and Llandudno provided plenty to keep us entertained.

Most mornings, after a huge full English breakfast, we would head for Happy Valley, at the foot of the Great Orme, above the pier. John and I would climb up to the base of the first cabinlift pylon, and watch them start operating. The slope of the land meant we were at eye-level with the cabins as they passed a few feet away from us.

The Open Air Theatre was still running, and every morning Stan Ryder would sit at the organ on the stage playing from his vast repertoire, generally with the percussion turned up loud enough to drown out most of the melody! In the afternoons, Alex Munro would do his simple, but traditional show. He would sing a few songs, and raise hysterical laughter from the (mostly elderly) audience by simply turning his bowler hat sideways. Some afternoons he would run a talent show ("Britain's Got Talent" and "X-Factor" seem to have pinched his idea). About a dozen school children would line up to sing songs in the hope of winning a stick of Llandudno rock.

The auditorium consisted of several rows of deckchairs, but you could see the show for free by climbing onto the rocky embankment in front of the cabinlift station. This became known as "Angus Hill". Alex Munro employed a depressed looking individual in an oversized security guard's uniform to clamber among the crowd with a collection box, muttering "Put some money in the box!" We never did, except on the one occasion pictured when I put a 2p piece in, simply to obtain the photograph.

Several times, John and I climbed to the summit of the Great Orme (679 feet above sea level), and explored the caves and gardens.

Two or three times a week the Isle of Man ferry would tie up at the pier, and do a two-hour cruise around Puffin Island. We went on this several times. There were also tours on antiquated petrol-engined buses around Marine Drive, and the famous cable tramway to the summit.

Professor Codman's "wooden headed follies" would perform a puppet show on the promenade, and there were trips round to the lighthouse behind the Great Orme, or round Llandudno bay on boats that held about twenty passengers.

The North Shore was covered in pebbles, the sand only appearing at low tide, but a mile away was the West Shore with its sand dunes.
There was a little playground with 5p slot-operated dodgems on a wooden track, and a small putting green. A rather grumpy park keeper looked after these. He had a sign outside his hut which said "Dim parcio". We thought this meant he wasn't very bright, but later learned it is Welsh for "No parking". There was also a tatty caravan selling ice cream, and underground toilets, which have since been filled in.

Our favourite source of fish and chips was Tribell's restaurant in the town centre, which I believe is still there.

There was a bandstand on the promenade, where the Salvation Army Band would perform, and Llandudno was (and still is) a favourite haunt of the United Beach Missions.

Heading along the promenade towards the Little Orme and Bodafon fields was the Craig-y-don boating pool. This was the scene of one of the most memorable incidents of our holidays, in 1974. A very large gentleman, in suit, tie and overcoat, was with a little girl in one of the rowing boats. Someone pointed out to him that the tail of his coat was hanging over the side and getting wet. As he bounced around, pulling his coat in, the water lapped over the edge of the boat, which promptly sank! The little girl stepped out, leaving him sitting in the sunken boat, fully clothed, with water up to his chest! We had never seen Our Dad laugh so much. He was thumping the seat on which he was sitting, roaring hysterically and nearly spat his dentures out!

I have been back several times, since those happy carefree teenage years, the latest being in 2002. A few things have changed, but basically the place appears to be the same. I must make a special effort to get there this summer....