A SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
AUGUST has known few sadder sights than the seaside towns of England this year. I was in Devon last week, that once beautiful county now heavy with the scent of petrol and sprinkled with cream and green caravans. I saw the sad little families walking about in the rain, the children whining, the parents irritable and all turned out of their boarding houses and told not to come back till lunch time. They had nothing to do but stand under the awnings of sea- side shops and gaze at expensive and useless souvenirs, or queue for morning coffee or make brave dashes for the sea- shore between the showers. And yet I know that when they come back to their factories and offices and are asked about their holidays they will all say that they had a good time. It is this characteristic courage in our race that makes us win wars.
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