Memoirs from Poole: Building the Bubble

We arrived in Poole mid-afternoon, after a fairly unadventurous road trip. Not the best way to start a story or a holiday, but that’s life I guess. We had had a discussion about inventing a GPS device that would answer questions, and another about buying ourselves a soldier, but they were the type of conversations that should be left with the time, place and people that they existed with, for fear of losing their poignancy.

But this isn’t about interesting stories or poignancy. This is about setting the scene, forming the image in your mind that will bode you well for later stories about the adventures and misadventures that took place during the holiday. So let me try and do that.

We were staying in a caravan park (in caravan number 44, for those ‘detail’ people) in the seaside town of Poole. It was one of these family parks, consisting of a café, some bars, a play-park, miniature golf, swimming pools, a snooker table, arcade machines and holiday makers. I’m sure that by just naming things I’m not evoking the most vivid of imagery, but once you’ve seen one of these places, you’ve seen them. If you haven’t seen one, you don’t want your memory space taken up with such images.

What makes these type of holiday places special is the people you spent your time with, and it is here that I come to my first brick wall of describing the events of the holiday. I am usually loath to describe my life unless it is somehow story-shaped or I can add enough opinion to it so as to make the whole thing interesting. I’m even more loath to start describing people I know.

I’ve learnt from experience that if I write my opinion or a description of a person, that person will inevitably read what I right. They’re not often offended, since I never have nasty stuff to say (or avoid saying it through fear of being read) but I find the whole idea a bit unnerving. Also, the description tends to get outdated pretty quick, as relationships change like the tide. And it is usually boring for anyone outside my inner social circle.

Anyway, the point I’m circling around but not really getting to, is that I don’t like writing descriptions of people in my life. However, on this rare occasion I feel it necessary to allow quick images when I mention a name later. I will stick to the facts and keep the whole thing short.

This is Emma. She has known me the longest, got a first in her History degree (give her a pat on the back when you see her) and likes the colour blue. She is nice.

This is Faye. She owns a costume shop and likes fairies. The image you have in your head of that person is probably Faye. She is nice.

This is Megan. She was my prom date, is going to be a teacher and is under the mistaken belief that Buffy should have ended up with Spike. She is nice.

This is (Chris) Nixon. His chief hobbies are drinking, swearing and combining the two. His parents also own the caravan that we stayed in. He is…well, I wouldn’t use the word ‘nice’ but he’s certainly entertaining.

So, the scene is set and the players are ready. The following stories take place in the same little bubble world with the same cast.

Enjoy.

:D