A Hallelujah Hi-de-hi

Scooped out of the boundary of Exmoor National Park is the lovely old-fashioned seaside town of Minehead, and along its promenade sits a Butlins holiday camp.

Like many Britons these places are enduringly associated for me with a 1950’s kind of what my parents would call rather ‘common’ - harmless all-inclusive fun. I am suprised but pleased that they survive into the 21st century, but I had literally no idea what to expect as a daytrip visitor. I certainly didn’t expect the frankly massive ticket prices displayed in the entrance pavilion. They seemed high considering that from my viewpoint the windswept funfair wasn’t ‘on’ and a Burger King sign was visible.
I hastily introduced ourselves as just visiting artists wanting to have a look about. Once I had assured them we didnt want to film anything, we were waived in, though not without a slight sense of surveyance.

The main space was a vast canvas tent structure accommodating many highstreet shops and eating places. The roof was impressively engineered and satisfyingly referenced the joyful ‘big top’ / camping references of early Butlins.
Children and young familes quietly and politely queued at the Burger King, they smiled at us as we walked around, calm pervaded what had promised at first glance to be my idea of hell.

It transpired we had walked in to a vast Christian conference filling the entire camp, and as today was ‘changeover day’ our slightly bewildered appearance raised no suspicion. The ‘trade stalls’ exhibited everything from Christian banking services to Evangelical rock schools, no hard sell of course as their occupants believed they were preaching to the converted. I discovered that 80’s diva Yazz had transformed into a hip Christian songstress.

Beyond this pleasure dome were the facilties and accommodation for the ‘campers’. I tried to pick up my email but found the wifi was not free.
Eclectic architecture akin to low-rise student housing sat within neat garden spaces. A small sub-Corbusier Modernist pavilion turned out to be a very recent addition, built as a marketing suite for the camp’s proudest achievement – a upmarket timeshare apartment block built in convincing art deco style. An enthusiastic young salesman appreciated our appreciation of the camp’s classier aspirations.

The crowds thinned out as we walked along the oldest accommodation blocks, endearing 50’s bunglalows with deep eaves, being cleaned by East Europeans. To my satisfaction, we noticed through their low windows that some of the Christians had left their beds unmade.

Abruptly, at the end of one of these avenues, stood a small but substantial white-washed chapel of the style one could see in a small Eastern European village. Pan-tiled roof, small bell-tower, checkered floor tiles. We hesitantly entered. Inside, a small table with a photograph of a young woman, but no campers.