Camping always seems like a good idea at the time. I guess it is a bit like drinking or even having children (birth or adopted!). Everytime you do it you say never again, but you soon forget the trauma and pain and history repeats itself.
We have only just recovered from a very wet week in Cornwall, when liquid mud oozed through our groundsheet and Winnie Whirlwind ripped one of the inner tents in a fit of temper. “Never, ever again,” I said emphatically.
But surprise, surprise, three weeks later I find myself knee deep in lists packing for yet another expedition under canvas. After an unsuccessful attempt at off-loading the children we will be squeezing the five of us and a lot of warm clothes and wet weather gear in to the car and heading back down to Cornwall for some festival fun.
We won’t give in to the weather! We will pretend it is still summer and ignore the fact that temperatures plummet at night. It is only two nights, it will be fun! Eek! Wish me luck…