Hi De Hi, Hi De No!
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Awfully sorry for yet another gap but I have a genuine reason other than sheer laziness, twittering and bloggers blogfright this time. I have been camping in Cornwall. I can hear a chorus of 'oh how lovely'. Well quite, in theory but in practice not quite exactly what I had in mind per se. I went with the 8 year old - voici le Garcon de Ginge:
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These were our pristine and weird and INCREDIBLY BORING campsite neighbours:
Fast forward to same night 03:30 battling with boggy ground and pegs that won't stay in as the wind has pulled them out so many times there is now no longer any purchase.
Fast forward same night 04:30 both of us soaked through staring at each other saying: I hate this. Well actually I think we said: this is SHIT!
Fast forward to same night/morning 06:00 - I wake up to panicked shouts of 'Rockmother! Get up now - the tent is on my face!' I leapt up and then immediately lost balance on deflating airbed then headbutted the flysheet. Oh comedy camping capers. We finally both staggered outside to see the tent sagging badly on her side which again had lost purchase in the ground that had had a years worth of rain in 2 hours.
Next door had the same problem - we saw a lot of pyjama welly and wet hair action going on throughout the night. Basically no one slept a wink - one family abandoned their tent completely - just took the contents and left. Good move. Later that morning a few obviously seasoned campers came over to say hello and have an irritatingly jolly chat. What the bloody hell did they have to be so jolly about? They all seemed to think it was hilarious and fun that we had all camped out in the eye of a terrible storm.
This lasted for two more days at which point we:
(a) became very miserable and ratty
(b) had to gather around a coolbox with junior monopoly balanced precariously on top lit only by a tiny torch to have mammoth raucous games which garcon de ginge loved as we..
(c) drank copious amounts of wine to obliterate the ability of getting up any more at night to rectify the tent
(d) decided that people who like camping in extremis are mad and obviously like being inconvenienced and cooped up in flappy nylon for fun
(e) thought about torching the tent but himwhosnoreslikeabison would probably not be that happy so we didn't.
But really, camping is no fun if all you can do is stagger around with hot weatherbeaten faces in damp clothes smelling of dog and have to run the risk of permanent tinnitus due to incredibly loud nylon flapping noise from wind and rain beating down like a ton of marbles onto the roof for 48hrs solid. So we moved. Sheer luck and god knows how we found a 2 bedroom pre-fab holiday home type thing in beautiful grounds including a heated swimming pool half a mile down the road. It had a hand-painted kaola bear plate on the wall in the kitchen.
It was bliss. So it was quite an adventure and despite the harrowing start we still had a great time which involved laughing quite a lot because if we hadn't we may have cried. Check out the unconscious 'art therapy' we did on the beach as part of our recovery....
All photos © Rockmother except top photo © alanandtricia.com (yes - they are for real!!)
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Labels: camp campus campmat camp not
9 Comments:
Camping reminds me of the horrible Scouts. As do big burly psychopathic men.
Ha, Rock mother you’re the funniest person - and most adorable person - alive.
You’ve got Too “used to that clean white linen, and that fancy French cologne, Mama get out your cane, and I’ll put on some silver (gold is too gauche) O, you‘re a mean old Mama, but I like you.”
The 4th. Beach photo is---- blew me away, brilliant!
hells bells, sugar! glad y'all made it thru the night! xoxoxo
Geoffster - oh dear - sounds traumatic.
Momodarling - Ha! I can assure you I am so not - I was quite possibly the most ugliest and bedraggled that week though ;-) Never wear gold - only silver for me. Thanks re: beach photo.
Savmarshmamama - hells bells indeed - but like Gloria Gaynor - we survived!x
I went camping in Cornwall (Tintagel) and it was properly miserable...
I woke up with the tent blown so far against my face it was like a bank robber with a stocking mask..
Holland's good for camping so's Dorset - can recommend Durdle Door near Lulworth campsite, or Pencelli in the Brecon Beacons
Gah, I remember a similar thing happening to me. I could have stabbed those smug annoying seasoned campers in the eye.
Mr Mondo Bongo - cool - thanks for tips although I fear unless I am on the continent or somewhere amazing like Sweden or Norway which I hear is fab for camping then it will be self-catering within 4 walls for me. Been there done that for years - have spent too many a wet'n'windy night in a tent. Oo-er madam - didn't really mean for it to come out like that but you know what I mean.
Billy - yes - they are all weirdo's with socks and sandals and buck teeth and boring cars and lives. Ha!
Are you trying to tell us that you went camping in a state of sobriety with no festival included?!?
Go seek professional help right now.
Those neighbours look like just the kind of campers we need. Neat, environmentally friendly and probably nocturnal.
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