In the summer of 1968 when I was nine we took our annual summer

summer holiday at a small holiday camp at Romney Marsh near Rye in Sussex located in the south of England.

As always, we stayed in a static caravan that was typical of the era. It was basic and small with seats that

converted into beds and a curtain that could be drawn between them for privacy.

Lighting came from a gas-powered privacy.

Lighting came from a gas-powered mantle

around the walls that my father would light in the evenings.

They made a comforting noise as they burned,

somehow much homier than the modern electric lighting systems of today.

My parents were not wealthy, so we always catered our own meals and our entertainment was simple.

After tea in the evening we would always go for a walk and usually end up in the camp amusement and entertainment clubhouse.

Dad would have a pint, a beer, and mom, a sherry, and we kids enjoyed a Coke with a straw and a pack of

ready-salted crisps.

I think you call them potato chips in America.

We would never be out late generally heading back to our caravan around 9, 30 or 10.

Our holidays usually took place around late August, meaning it would already be dark by that

time. By the late 1960s, the eyes of the world were focused on the sky.

Commonly referred to as the space race,

it was a time of astronauts and satellites.

Unlike today's geostationary satellites, those early versions moved in such a way that live broadcasts on TV and radio between different countries had to wait until the relevant satellite came on stream, usually meaning a limited broadcast of maybe 15 or 20 minutes.

As irritating as it was, these satellites were easily visible as they passed overhead,

shining as either red or green lights in the night sky.

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