All Carol’s work of course 🙂 You have to admit it’s everything a monster from the enormous exterior footprint, to the capacious inner space separated into handy compartments; important people, small people, wine, food and dog.
Or possibly not dog. Our first family camping experiment was experienced in a retro-bell tent much loved for it’s height and space, but falling down on single living space and – nearly – due to rubbish pegging and a strong wind.
Murf was even more bionic back then; on waking at around 5:30am he’d meet the morn with a moist sniff of all pack members, finishing off with a sloppy lick roughly translated as “C’mon it’s MORNING, Let’s GO“.
To be startled from sleep by that hot breath, at the business end of a large black two holed snout, put me in mind of being woken by Darth Vader. There is also the small matter of my not so small 4×4 being squeezed seam-full of family, camping stuff, tent, emergency medical supplies* and squashed Labrador.
This – I think – gives me absolute carte blanche to go and buy a trailer. If nothing else it’ll make the trip out to our campsite a bit quieter. assuming the tarp keeps the kids inside. So£50 well spent I am sure on this pre-loved mostly mobile house. No idea how long it took to build, but next time it’ll probably be less than half a day, especially if the children aren’t involved in “helping” at all apparently.
An inaugural outing is loosely planned over Easter way out west on the “Welsh Riviera“. Where there are fabulous beaches, lots of fun hidden coves, great little eateries and an entire lack of anyone from London.
Apparently crumbly cliffs rear over these beaches, flat topped with soft meadows providing an idyllic spot for family picnics. By a strange co-incidence, these jutted butresses are also one of the very best sites to chuck toy gliders into a setting sun. Really, how lucky is that?
Got tent. Booked Holiday. Planned for dog abandonment. Just Spring left to turn up and we’re good to go.
* Comes in bottles. Normally Red. Always more than one.