Thursday, August 29, 2013

Going Camping

I came home from my wonderful holidays hankering after the Peak District.  I just love it there and want to return as soon as possible.  I mentioned this to my friend who said “well, we will go camping then”.

Camping sounds good to me for I was an avid camper in my youth. My friend and I spent many a night under canvas in, glorious landscapes, battlefields, jungles and quite terrifying terrain.  Mostly we survived the night, but if we didn’t we could always go home to either her or my house which was conveniently never more than a few meters away.

None of my camping gear has survived (it mostly wore out or spontaneously combusted in an inconvenient situation abroad) so we needed some more.  I have an exploding petrol burner and my friend has a terrifying gas burner so cooking should be a triumph. We only needed a tent.

We met at the camping shop.  My friend got there before me, scanned the tents and announced, when I finally made it, that we would have a four man tent, pay half each and here it was.  I have never seen a tent so large (or so bright).  Not only could I stand up in it but there were room for arm chairs in the front.  I tried to convince my camping partner that the smaller lighter tents were far more practical but the idea fell on deaf ears.  I was told in no uncertain terms that the three (including one for the dog)mattress’  that were coming camping with us would not fit in the small piddly tents I was suggesting.  I was also told that getting changed while lying down was something this particular camping partner was NOT going to do.



Getting changed?

Well, this isn’t any kind of camping I am used to.

I gave in and we paid half each for the tent (my room is the one on the left).  It needs a crane to carry it.  Indeed, our four man tent is so heavy I wonder whether it has four men in it.  Here’s hoping.  Hopefully Team Bones can sit in the arm chairs drinking gin while the tent puts itself up

Boots hasn’t been camping before. We are camping in a field. I hope the rabbits don’t decide to have their picnic outside our tent at 2am. I can just see the scene unravelling in my mind….

Monday, August 19, 2013

Conversations from the kitchen

Tonight we are having chicken.  It was frozen.  Not being a master of the microwave I told Dad he was in charge of defrosting at which point he disappeared.  After some time I decided it was time to cook....the conversation went like this:

Me:  where IS the chicken?
Dad: in the washing up bowl.

Er...yes, why did I even ask!  There it was, submerged.