The day I was let loose in a sweet factory
CONTINUING our series featuring the holiday memories of famous people, this week actress JANE ASHER, 72, recalls her lifetime of adventures…
My first holiday:
Every summer when I was a child was spent in Frinton-on-Sea in Essex, pictured right. My earliest memory is of being smothered in calamine lotion in a hopeless attempt to stop the painful itching of urticaria that my skin always developed in the sun. The only suncreams back then were useless ointments that did nothing to prevent burning. I so much wanted to be like the other children, who turned a lovely shade of honey, when all I could achieve were rashes and freckles.
First school trip:
I’ve never forgotten it as it was a childhood dream – we were taken to the Barratts sweet factory in Wood Green, North London. I still recall the sight and smell of the conveyor belts covered in Refreshers, Jelly Babies, Liquorice Allsorts, toffees – and the now-banned ‘sweet cigarettes’. We were given a bag of samples as we left – a Roald Dahl fantasy brought to life.
First time abroad:
When I was seven I was picked to appear in a magazine ad for Aer Lingus, which involved being flown to Dublin. The flight is the part I will never forget: the excitement of take-off and looking down on clouds for the first time. The memory still gives me a thrill all these years later.
My honeymoon:
As my husband, cartoonist Gerald Scarfe, and I were both working, our honeymoon was simply lunch at The Ritz, where the beautiful pink, blue and gold ceiling was in a state of disarray thanks to a guest letting their bath overflow. Every year we promise ourselves a return trip on our anniversary, but we’ve only managed it a few times.
Best holiday:
Any one of the skiing holidays we took with the children in the French Alps before I broke my ankle and reluctantly retired. I always skied too fast for my level of competence, but the glorious scenery and wonderful food and wine (with enough exercise to mitigate the effects) made for the best times.
And the worst:
Everything went wrong with our week in Albufeira on the Algarve in 1983 with our three young children. The weather was terrible, the baby got a terrifying rash, and all of us had food poisoning.
Dream destination:
I don’t ask for much – not enough time difference to give me jet-lag, sunny but not sweatily hot, delicious seafood, a sandy beach and warm sea, no mosquitos, a cheap but luxurious hotel, and enough local culture for a day or two of exploration but not so much that I feel guilty for just lazing about. I’ll keep looking…