Growing up in the Midlands as part of a working-class family, our yearly holiday adventure consisted of a three or four-night trip to North Wales.
A few weeks into the school summer holidays, my two brothers and I would bundle into the back of our navy blue Ford Escort Estate and tease each other the whole two and a half hour journey — playfully on the way there, but cruelly on the way home. We’d be exhausted from the sea air and evenings spent catching crabs with cracked open mussel shells on LLandudno’s old wooden pier.
