Back to a fav topic of mine... yes, camping.
A night out under canvas is cheaper than a bowl of chips in most restaurants, so in these economically constrained times it makes sense to max out on camping.
See the bbc website if you don't believe me.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/7537641.stm
Anyway, I went with the family to Walberswick at the weekend - tent under one arm, crabbing net under the other.
I managed to survived two nights under flimsy, billowing fabric, and... whisper it quietly... everyone enjoyed it, including I, Lord Loafy.
If you have never heard of the place, Walberswick is in Suffolk, a county that is as flat, if not flatter, than Carla Bruni's chest.
Anyway, there is a campsite there right next to the beach. When the kids wake up in the morning, instead of saying to them, "go and watch some telly," it feels so much better to be able to say, "go to the beach it's only 10 metres away."
I should have warned them about the hoverflies though.
A plague of them suddenly arrived from Holland. Along with a profusion of ladybirds (or ladyboys as I jokingly referred to them as) and flying beetles, an ideal Saturday morning on the beach quickly descended into an ordeal with everyone constantly twitching their bodies or shaking/flicking their limbs about. We were all suddenly burdened by a series of unusual nervous tics.
There was only one solution. As soon as the pub opened seek sanctuary there.
Despite rain of biblical proportions being predicted, it rained only once. It wasn't all blinding sunshine though, it was more the typical british summer weather of greyish skies and high winds. Bracing I think is the word I am looking for.
In my last post I predicted beer would feature regularly during the weekend. And it did. Adnams beer to be precise. Not bad, but come Sunday afternoon... again I will whisper it quietly... I must say I was glad to be able to sit down in a tearoom and not a pub. I was bored of beer and sick of dodgy pub grub.
The highlight for me though was Saturday night.
At around 10pm when the light and insects had fully drained away, and after a long walk along the beach, we chose to have a bonfire in the dunes. The wind had dropped to zero and other people at the campsite had had a similar idea. Soon, there was a string of bonfires along the beach. It was someone's birthday and some fireworks were set off on the beach followed by the release of a series of Chinese flying lanterns. It was beautiful. I could have stayed there all night especially after one of my children fell asleep in my arms by the fire.
Sometime after midnight with the kids in bed, I took my electric toothbrush down to the beach and brushed my teeth while listening to the crashing waves and counting the stars. It took me sometime to count them all, my teeth have never been so clean.
Camping is great.
But coming home is great too.
There's the airless, stuffy rooms to look forward to, and the sudden lack of space. There's also the overwhelming need to defecate (after having rendered yourself shitless for the last two days) and the pile of red bills awaiting your urgent attention by the front door.
All of it screams, "Welcome home sucker!"
I think I'm going to have myself a red bill bonfire in the back garden.
