Published: January 26, 2020
My friends are not always how I remember them during those teenage days of beachside fairgrounds and hot guys. But then a small spark takes us back ...
Each summer between the ages of 14 and 18 I would spend a week at the beach with my five best friends, huddled in an annexed caravan located in the Rye Holiday Park, all six of us crammed into two double beds.
The Rye Holiday Park on Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula is at the end of a long dirt road, one I still point out each time I drive past it, saying “That’s the road that leads to the Rye Holiday Park” to whoever I am driving with. We spent days at the back beach, nights playing Uno or watching the Australian Open.
Continue reading...from The Guardian https://ift.tt/38JdKqu
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