My First Romance

It was 1968 and the summer of Peace and Love. I was in love. Deep Passionate Love. Her name was Bronwyn Evans. She was from Wales and spoke to me with a beautiful melodic welsh accent.

It was love at first sight when I saw her the first day we arrived at Butlin’s Holiday Village in Minehead. She saw me and smiled. I smiled back.

I’d just turned 16 years old and had been dragged literally kicking and screaming on this week’s holiday. Now that I had seen her my whole attitude towards the place had done a complete flip.

We had first spoken to each other when we were both helping the oldies with the unloading of the cars. Our eyes met and I knew then that she was the one for me.


I am so sad. Today is the last full day of the holiday. Bronwyn and I have been inseparable for the whole week. I am so nervous. My love is in anything far deeper than it was on the fist day. I know she likes me but so far she has spurned my attempts to kiss her. I have one more opportunity. Tonight is the end of week party. The oldies will be getting pissed so here is my chance.

It is 9pm on our final evening together and we are sitting outside the Camp Chippy holding hands. I know I want to tell her on my devotion and everything about me. Time is running out. I must make my move soon.

“Bronwyn,” I said.

“Yes Susan,” she replied.

“I have something to tell you.”

“What is it Susan.”

“I am in Love with you,” I stuttered.

“I know that silly. I have been in love with you since last Saturday.”

We kissed. This was the first really passionate kiss I had ever received.

After that kiss, time seemed to stand still. We kissed some more.

I held her very tight more out of fear than passion.

“Bronwyn, there is something you should know.”

“Shush Susan. There is plenty of time. Just let this moment go on forever.”

I shut up.

“Bronwyn, This can’t wait any longer.”

mmmmm was her reply as another passionate kiss came my way.

I broke free of her embrace.

“Bronwyn. Stop! I have to tell you something important.”

Before she should reply.

“My name isn’t Susan. Its Stephen.”

“That don’t matter. Mine is William.”



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