[MargaretR]

In the scortching summer of 76, we (me ,ex and son) went on holiday with friends (couple +2girls).

They booked a chalet (for them) and a caravan (for us) on a Devon farm.

The 2 men decided that we should all travel together in a minibus which they had bought cheap and since both were mechanics, could be got roadworthy in time.
My ex also bought a small boat which we could tow. The 'diff' was changed to take the extra load.

When we got there there was no other accomodation but ours, in a field next to the farm, miles from anywhere. Water was by standpipe in the farmyard, and it ran dry after 2 days due to the drought.
I don't remember the toilet facilities (perhaps I have blanked that out)

The chalet was a nissen hut - the caravan was a small tourer type.
There was no fridge in either of them. The food we had brought went off rapidly in the scorching heat.

We decided that daily escape was essential for survival.
Each day we all piled in the minibus for the journey to the coast.
We found that when fully laden + boat, the bus would not go up steep hills unless all passengers got out.

So the boat was a source of friction between families from the start, especially since on the one day we took it, my ex launched it and said he would sail it to they next beach on, and we should meet him there.
After 4 hours on a crowded beach watching out for him, we called the coastguard, who advised us that he had called them and was on a different beach altogether, and would we please collect him.

Meal times were also a nightmare because we had differing views on places to eat.

By the 3rd day we were'nt on speaking terms, and just had silent trips to the coast and back, splitting up when we got there, speaking only to say the time when we would meet for the return trip back to the farm.

It is the longest 7 days I have ever spent.
Never spoke to them since.