THE SMELL OF SAUSAGES COOKING

When I was a kid Christmas holidays for our family were spent on the road travelling up north and staying in holiday camps. We would stay in tourist cabins rather than in a pitched tent probably because my mother at some early stage rebelled against the frantic last minute and unsuccessful tent assembly that most holidaymakers had arguments over.

We holidayed in the Wairarapa, Hawkes Bay, Waikato, Taupo, Rotorua and many places up the West Coast from Wellington. Magic.

The cabins of the 1960s weren't as flash as I imagine the offerings are today but we loved them. If it was all of us - mum, dad, my brother and three sisters, dad would book 2 cabins - a small one for my brother and I and the larger one for the rest. It was a combination of my brother's farts and socks that dictated this I think and my sisters' objections to sharing with him.

The holiday parks had shared ablution and kitchen blocks which I didn't mind at the time but would never consider using nowadays. The shared kitchens were a treat with the hubbub and blended cooking smells at breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I particularly remember the smell of cooking sausages which somehow would drift over the campground and it was a big disappointment if we didn't have some for our tea.

When I was about 14 I was learning to drive and I would practice driving around the campgrounds for hours on end. We had a 1964 Holden EH Special then that I loved.

Normally we hear the sounds of holidaymakers in our bay at this time of year but not so much this time. The weather has been a bit crappy with major rain storms through Christmas so I guess it's put a lot of people off. I love hearing the sounds of kids splashing in the water and diving off the swimming platform.

At least there are no bloody jet skis though.