Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.

Many thanks to vivacious for the great Header.

Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini

By

Brian Hyland. - 1960

As a new decade began and I eagerly anticipated entering into double figures next birthday, life continued in a now familiar pattern. School and sport, playing with friends, visiting relatives, looking after real or stuffed animals and annoying my sister were all part of the daily routine.

One thing all children look forward to and we were no exceptions, are family holidays. Of course, in those times package tours and flying to exotic places were virtually unheard of, so like any other English family; we'd travel on trains to our good old British seaside resorts.

We were fortunate in that my Mum's sister and husband lived in the holiday resort of Folkestone, Kent and so spent many happy times holidaying there. Aunty Edna and Uncle Jack had no children and always looked forward to seeing us. Unlike our parents they were a devoted couple, unfamiliar harmony filled their home and sis and I equally loved to be in their company.

During the long summer break of 1960 it was decided my sister was now old and responsible enough to take care of the little one, so we were left to stay with Edna and Jack and no parental supervision. We weren't the best of friends back then and a five-year gap in age meant totally different interests, but a holiday is a holiday and we were both quite excited at the prospect.

We had fun; we walked, relaxed on the sands, swam in the sea and enjoyed being fussed by our loving aunt and uncle. Money was in short supply so we were quite delighted to discover a way to swindle one of the machines in a penny arcade. This particular machine displayed pictures of Jane Russell, Frank Sinatra, Cary Grant and Marilyn Monroe and it was the punter's job to guess which one the flashing light would stop on.

Sis and I discovered there was a split second between the light stopping and the ‘Bet Now' display turning off and every day set off with a mission to line our pockets. Sis promised we'd save enough to spend our last afternoon on the beach with a picnic, new buckets and spades, sweets and ice cream and anything else that took our fancy. I was so looking forward to it and we did indeed set off on that last day with bulging pockets and purses from our illicit winnings.

I was in love with eleven-year-old Peter Brooks who lived on my street at the time, but was quite happy to live without him for the sake of a holiday. I thought my sister might just manage a week without the male of the species too, but we all know what thought did.

I don't recall what my sister was wearing that particular afternoon; it could well have been an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini, although exposing excess flesh in those days wasn't the norm. Whatever, it wouldn't have mattered if she'd been wearing a black bin liner; there was always a rampant, hormone-challenged male about to attract her attention.

And so it was I was rudely evacuated from my fun afternoon on the beach, while my sis and her pick-up found a suitable place to snog each other into oblivion. I was left for three hours in the company of Romeo's little brother, fidgeting uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact and struggling for conversation.

Had I snitched on her to my parents when we returned home I doubt they'd have believed me, as she was always considered their less troublesome daughter. However, just to make sure her holiday activities were kept solely between us I was given the remains of the savings as hush-up money. Bribery works wonders on children.

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My sister and I on holiday at Folkestone in1960. I believe Sooty and Sweep were my companions that year.