My Travel writing

Travel Writing:

Cruising into the holiday park in the late afternoon doesn't cease to surprise me.
There are hundreds of children flailing about, pulling parents into the arcade or climbing onto the play equipment, that to be honest, has seen better days.
I feel like a parent myself, absently checking out the equipment for faults as we drive by.
The sky above me darkens as the sun sets leaving a shadow cast overland. The upbeat music from the holiday parks club echoes from a distance, its spotlights travel into the night sky as if calling the children's fictional character, Batman.

Number 64, the caravan that is now our home for the next seven days finally stands before us, after waiting for hours. Family members climb the creaky stairs entering one of the caravans classed as one of the park's high standard rating. Migrating to a place which is an old family favourite, like Cornwall is tradition for me. Staying at one of the highly rated holiday parks, Park dean, does have its advantages. The pristine utilities look new containing basic equipment like kettles and microwaves as well as a small TV with bad signal! Without a doubt it wouldn't be a holiday if we had good signal!
Electricity, heating and food cooked to perfection, these are the many things that we take for granted when at home.

As the night draws to a close, my tired family members and myself drift off to sleep tucked up in our cocoons full of warmth, listening to the soft pitter patter of the rain hitting the tinny roof.

The next day we set out to sight see. Although we have been here many times before, the smile on my mothers face never wavers when her eyes set upon the deep blue ocean. The sound of the waves crashing upon the yellow sandy beach dotted with shallow pebbles is one that everyone wishes they could hear at home.
The many gift shops and the conventional British favourite, fish and chip shops, look as if they are painted along the coast making it one picturesque sight. Nostrils filled with the diverse aroma of what can only be fish and sea salt. I can hear the seagulls sing their appreciation as more tourists line the coast in search of a catering establishment.
Walking along the coastline is not as warm as you may think, as Cornwall is in the south, the breeze is stronger than up north, making everyone's hair fly across their eyes. The busy streets crammed with tourists like a busy motorway at rush hour, teams against as we zig-zag our way through to get to the local chippy.

As we enjoy our lunch, freshly caught fish and fat fried chips, we look out of the nearby window admiring the view of fishing boats drifting along by the brick wall surrounding the coast of St Ives. Its devastating to think that one day in the distant future it will all be gone, taken from us by coastal erosion. The landmarks here at Cornwall, are one of the many things that attract tourists. Other than the fact that the sea is quite a drive away, I can see myself visiting again in the not to distant future.

Gemma Lucas