For the 70s child, summer time holidays didn’t mean the joy of CentreParcs or the sophistication of a Tuscan villa. They intended being crammed right into a car with Grandma and going to the coastline. With only a tent for any house and a bucket for the necessities, we would tripped on new adventures each year stoically resolving to enjoy ourselves.

For Emma Kennedy, and her mum and father, disaster always arrived for the ride no matter where they went. Whether it had been being swept apart by a force ten gale over the Welsh coastline or struggling copious levels of food poisoning on the brave trip to the south of France, family members holidays always still left them battered and bruised.

But they under no circumstances quit. Emma’s memoir, The Tent, The Bucket and Me, is normally a painfully funny reminder of just what it was prefer to spend your summer time holidays cold, damp but with fine sand between your toes.