It wasn’t ours really

See, there I am again, kid in dungarees on holiday at Cayton Bay nr Scarborough, notice how our Ned has got the car, the bastard, those cars were a thing to be coveted, the shop that rented them out stood at the main entrance to the holiday camp, you could hire bicycles, tricycles and those four wheeled cycles where two people sit side by side under a canopy and pedal around smiling like imbeciles – and pedal racing cars.

I always wanted a pedal racing car for they were so cool as you can probably tell from the photograph, I mean, what small boy would not want to be seen in such a cool feat of Tri-ang British engineering ?

Green they were, or red, obviously its hard to tell from the photo but I think this one is red, irrelevant, what is relevant is that I always coveted one, always asked our dad to hire one for me and he always refused “they’re too dear” he’d say, time and again, “they’re too dear, lets go play cricket instead eh, that’s free you know”

So no I’m not jealous that our Ned got to sit in the red Tri-ang pedal racing car for I do not believe for one moment that our father would rent one for us, no absolutely not, I am of the firm conviction that somewhere to the left of this photograph, just cropped out of eyeline is a small more spoiled kid than us who my father has just shoved away from the red Tri-ang pedal racing car that his father rented for him, and he’s handed the camera to my Uncle Sid with the words “Quick Sid, take our photo before that kids dad comes to see why he’s bawling his eyes out”.


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