Package Holiday Pioneers!

Package holiday pioneers Joan Gross and her friend Joyce enjoy the Jersey seaside 50 years ago.
Package holiday pioneers Joan Gross and her friend Joyce enjoy the Jersey seaside 50 years ago.

While I was searching through some papers recently, I came across a couple of old photographs of myself and my friend Joyce on holiday 50 years ago. In 1950 things were slowly returning to normal after the war, but rationing was still in force and holidays were still something of a rarity.

We saw the advertisement in our local paper – a week in Jersey at a beachside hotel, full board including flight from Eastleigh to St. Helier and coach travel from Birmingham to the airport for just £15 each! Even in those days it seemed too good to be true for working girls earning about £3 10s per week, from which we had to clothe and entertain ourselves and pay for our keep at home.

As the departure was in April, we had six weeks to save up, so we decided to go for it. After paying the £5 deposits we scrimped and saved to raise the rest. We took sandwiches for lunch, cycled to work and gave up our weekly trips to the cinema.

At last the great moment arrived. The ancient coach from Birmingham came and dropped us off at Eastleigh Airport, where a

representative of the company, Lees Hill Aviation, indicated the aircraft that were to ferry us to Jersey.

Our mouths dropped open, for waiting on the tarmac were two tiny Rapides! I’m not sure exactly what we’d expected, but certainly not ‘toys’ like these! There was no turning back,
however, so with trepidation we climbed aboard.

Our plane was an eight-seater, so we each had a window seat, and I watched
the engine on my side reluctantly begin to turn. Gradually it gained speed, and with a deafening roar we taxied on to the airstrip. The little aircraft rattled and shook alarmingly as it raced along, and we were almost out of runway before it lifted into the air. Joyce and I let out our breath and now, safely airborne, began to enjoy the thrill of the flight as we set course for the Channel Islands.

Below: The two Rapides wait at Eastleigh for the boarding of their passengers to Jersey.
Below: The two Rapides wait at Eastleigh for the boarding of their passengers to Jersey.

The plane seemed to drop out of the sky as we approached St. Helier, bumping down heavily with a screech of tyres. With shaking legs we disembarked, refusing to remember that we had to do it all again at the end of the holiday.

To our delight, Brookhouse Hotel really was on the beach, so we were able to swim and sunbathe every day. We had marvellous food and lots of warm spring sunshine, and made the most of our time, taking the local bus to visit other parts of the island.

All too soon the week was over. We’d spent all our money and acquired a lovely tan, but still had the thrill of the return flight to come. Our little plane landed safely at Eastleigh, but the poor ramshackle bus broke down on the way to Birmingham. It didn’t matter, though, for we’d had a lovely time. Joyce and I are grannies now, but we still exchange Christmas cards with all the family news, remembering the time when we were package holiday pioneers.

Joan Gross

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Package Holiday Pioneers!

Package holiday pioneers Joan Gross and her friend Joyce enjoy the Jersey seaside 50 years ago.
Package holiday pioneers Joan Gross and her friend Joyce enjoy the Jersey seaside 50 years ago.

While I was searching through some papers recently, I came across a couple of old photographs of myself and my friend Joyce on holiday 50 years ago. In 1950 things were slowly returning to normal after the war, but rationing was still in force and holidays were still something of a rarity.

We saw the advertisement in our local paper – a week in Jersey at a beachside hotel, full board including flight from Eastleigh to St. Helier and coach travel from Birmingham to the airport for just £15 each! Even in those days it seemed too good to be true for working girls earning about £3 10s per week, from which we had to clothe and entertain ourselves and pay for our keep at home.

As the departure was in April, we had six weeks to save up, so we decided to go for it. After paying the £5 deposits we scrimped and saved to raise the rest. We took sandwiches for lunch, cycled to work and gave up our weekly trips to the cinema.

At last the great moment arrived. The ancient coach from Birmingham came and dropped us off at Eastleigh Airport, where a

representative of the company, Lees Hill Aviation, indicated the aircraft that were to ferry us to Jersey.

Our mouths dropped open, for waiting on the tarmac were two tiny Rapides! I’m not sure exactly what we’d expected, but certainly not ‘toys’ like these! There was no turning back,
however, so with trepidation we climbed aboard.

Our plane was an eight-seater, so we each had a window seat, and I watched
the engine on my side reluctantly begin to turn. Gradually it gained speed, and with a deafening roar we taxied on to the airstrip. The little aircraft rattled and shook alarmingly as it raced along, and we were almost out of runway before it lifted into the air. Joyce and I let out our breath and now, safely airborne, began to enjoy the thrill of the flight as we set course for the Channel Islands.

Below: The two Rapides wait at Eastleigh for the boarding of their passengers to Jersey.
Below: The two Rapides wait at Eastleigh for the boarding of their passengers to Jersey.

The plane seemed to drop out of the sky as we approached St. Helier, bumping down heavily with a screech of tyres. With shaking legs we disembarked, refusing to remember that we had to do it all again at the end of the holiday.

To our delight, Brookhouse Hotel really was on the beach, so we were able to swim and sunbathe every day. We had marvellous food and lots of warm spring sunshine, and made the most of our time, taking the local bus to visit other parts of the island.

All too soon the week was over. We’d spent all our money and acquired a lovely tan, but still had the thrill of the return flight to come. Our little plane landed safely at Eastleigh, but the poor ramshackle bus broke down on the way to Birmingham. It didn’t matter, though, for we’d had a lovely time. Joyce and I are grannies now, but we still exchange Christmas cards with all the family news, remembering the time when we were package holiday pioneers.

Joan Gross

More Stories

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