Camping - At my age I ought to know better
I thought I’d done with camping and caravanning a long time ago. I’d had enough of crawling about on hands and knees looking for a torch in the darkness of a tent in the middle of the night to light the way to the toilet – or sometimes a convenient bush. No more shouting “keep off the sides of the tent” at everyone in hearing distance so that the deluge of rain, that usually begins before the tent is even erected doesn’t soak through. Enough of spending the majority of what is supposed to be a ‘holiday’ folding and unfolding sleeping bags, blankets and towels and dodging precariously strung lines dripping with wet washing. Gone the days of sitting around a single gas burner stove that takes an hour to boil a kettle and even longer to cook 2 rashers of bacon and an egg. At my age I ought to know better. But it seems that once the idea of the open road and the freedom of the outdoor life is in your blood it never leaves you. ...