Said a London chimney sweep: "Don't fence me in. I want to get to the sea and breathe."
Thirty million other Britons, straining to shake off the psychological soot of war, were set for a whopping vacation binge. Brighton, finally rid of barbed wire and pillboxes, was triumphantly ready for the Easter trade. Yachts and motorboats, many of them veterans of Dunkirk, were fought over by sea-hungry landlubbers. Butlin's popular seaside camps, the workingman's country clubs, had more customers than they could handle. While most people wanted to get out of the city,...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
