As a child, I don’t ever remember being on a holiday park. I just don’t think we had the money, so it wasn’t something we did.
I do remember going camping once in a tent with my cousin—we’d gone with her dad to a motorbike rally. I must have been about 11 or 12. All I remember is how cold it was, how hard the ground felt, and how scared I was to go for a wee in the dark! I don’t think I slept, and I definitely didn’t think I’d ever want to do that again.
Fast forward 12 years, and I find myself heading down a 6-mile single-track road on my way to a holiday park to start a new job. It was the first time I’d ever seen anything like it. Caravans and lodges nestled around the edge of a loch, in the most breathtaking setting—I couldn’t believe my eyes. My heart instantly felt at home.
My accommodation was basic, as expected. I shared a flat, and over time, I saw a lot of people come and go. But those aren’t the memories that stick with me.
What I remember most is my first shift in the bar. I watched people on holiday, dressed in their best for dinner, laughing and dancing along to the music. I’d worked in pubs before, but this was different. It was family-friendly, it was relaxed—and somehow, I felt like I was part of it
People told me about their day—where they’d been, what they’d seen. They’d ask me if I’d visited certain spots, and when I said no, they’d tell me exactly how to find them. When I mentioned I was new, they told me how lucky I was to be working there. They’d been coming for years and couldn’t get enough of the place. Some even dreamed of living there themselves one day.
I ended up living on park and working across several parks for years. The remote locations didn’t bother me—the scenery en route and on arrival was incomparable. I didn’t mind the long hours or the packed peak weeks, because I genuinely felt part of the fun. This wasn’t just a job or a temporary gig—I’d found my place. I was climbing the holiday park ladder, with aspirations of becoming a General Manager one day. And I would have been!
These days, I visit holiday parks in a different way—mostly to deliver training and consultancy. And I still love it. I get to see new places and explore all kinds of parks. I recently went to one less than an hour from home and felt like I’d been transported hundreds of miles away. Holiday parks really do get under your skin. There’s a kind of magic to them.
It’s funny—my daughter has been lucky enough to travel the world. She’s visited some amazing countries and cities. But her favourite holiday? A caravan park. In a caravan or lodge, near the sea, with a pool she can swim in—even if it rains! It seems the magic has captured her too.
And that’s really the point. It’s easy to forget the magic of a holiday park. When you're going from day to day, peak season to winter shutdown, it can slip your mind. But it’s there—in the view, in the facilities (or the peaceful lack of them), and in the staff who treat guests like family.
It’s all magic.
I love holiday parks, I really do. If you’d like me to come and visit yours, get in touch at jackie.hall@ruthbadger.com