I don’t do camping, I can tell you that for nothing. The thought of waking up in a morning with damp tent canvas stuck to my cheek whilst trapped in a sweltering sleeping bag is not my idea of a good time.
But, as the man in my life sometimes fancies himself as one of those ‘at one with nature’ sorts, I thought I’d better compromise for the sake of his birthday. So, we headed off to a site in sunny Sussex for a spot of “glamping”.
Of course we spent the first hour or so taking pictures of our destination and posting them for the world to see, but once phone and ipad batteries were dead, it was a bit like stepping back in time, which I assume is the whole point.
We (not so much me) cooked every meal on the barbecue, we had conversation after conversation without interruptions of the latest football score or of who said what about who, and the only sense of time was when the birds started singing in the morning and when the sun went down at night. Life just slowed to a wandering pace for a couple of days, which made a refreshing change.
Granted, I still had to trudge across a field in the middle of the night if I wanted a wee, but the double bed, toasty electric blanket and unlimited cups of tea kind of made up for that.
I mean, obviously nothing beats your own bed, or eating a hot dog without finding grass in your teeth, but this great outdoors thing – I totally get it. Well, if it’s just for two nights and there’s a hot bath guaranteed at the end of it, that is.