My daughter and Andrew have gone camping over the weekend. Really to test out the camping gear Andrew has brought for a longer camping trip in the summer.
I used to take my daughter when she was small camping as well. Also when she had grown-up would go camping by myself in Wales, though after a time I succumbed to the comforts of a holiday cottage.
My first tent was an old secondhand canvas one, slightly torn in places so patched with Laura Ashley patches. We went off to Devon with that one and then to the New Forest. Here a stampeding, alright it was only a rustle, of cows went through the night, but scary still!
The one camping trip we all remember was the Forest of Dean. I packed my small car, with camping gear, two dogs, daughter, son and grandson. I had bought two tents with us, one very new, and I remember Tom, aged about 4 years old saying 'granny this tent is broken' 'nonsense' said I but he was right, those stupid strings within poles had broken so went off to the nearest town and managed to find replacements. My son had just finished his gcse and was exhausted and seemed to have slept most of the time. It must have been not long after he had been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and as always that was a worry for me at the time.
We all loved the forest and went to a little museum of the coal miner's houses. Tiny inside but cosy, of course in their day it would have been completely different, a two up, two down cottage filled with children probably, but as a nation we do like to romanticise the past.
Talking of which, I pulled out H.J.Massingham's English Downland book yesterday. The photos showed empty lanes and beautiful countryside. Houses nestled in hollows, none of the wires and industrial bric-a-brac messing the countryside up. A true Garden of Eden.
Photos are like that, they snatch a perfect moment in time, but of course reality proves otherwise. The only chapter I really read was the Wiltshire one, the great chalk land tract that gives us crystal clear little rivers, or did, now with the news that the River Wye (surely the loveliest of rivers) is being polluted by chicken waste I believe, who will fight for the chalk rivers?
Massingham sang the praises of the two great prehistoric centres of Wiltshire Stonehenge and Avebury. He sees them as two great cathedrals, the necropolis of Stonehenge with all its barrows clustered round, and it reminds me to see if I have saved Jacquetta Hawke's book from going to Oxfam on her journeying round prehistoric Britain.
But for now it is coffee time.
I have never enjoyed camping as it always seemed very uncomfortable to me - too hot, too cold, too crowded, too many bugs, stinky latrines... I am quite a baby about it, aren't I?! I love to go exploring but want a cabin or nice hotel room to return to with a nice hot shower! :)
ReplyDeleteI also used to camp when working on a dig and we had those terrible smelly portaloos which are a disgrace. But apart from that I loved camping by Castle Acre Priory amongst friends Ellen.
DeleteI liked camping, but now I prefer to be able to stand up to put my trousers on.
ReplyDeleteTrue Tasker, the older you get, the more difficult it is to get up from the floor.
DeleteOh how I love old books and photos like that - everything looks so unspoilt and as it should be. Of course, people were often hungry, couldn't afford a Dr, barely went beyond the nearest town and had parochial lives, but less worry all the same.
ReplyDeleteWe used to go camping every summer with the children (all we could afford). The first night I NEVER slept - tents are NOT very sound-proof! and was grouchy the next day as a result. Memories of sitting in the van with Keith in the evenings with a box of red wine and two glasses (it did last the week btw!) and just talking.
These black and white photos show scenes of tranquil beauty. The 1930s was that between times of the wars and all those excellent authors, such as Edward Thomas, took advantage of the peace of the countryside Jennie. Moans from my daughter this morning on F/B the coldest night ever and please give the Aga a hug!
DeleteWe always went camping when we were children because that's what my parents could afford. It wasn't a break for my poor Mum though. As an adult my sister loved it and I've never been since as it's not my thing. Arilx
ReplyDeleteYes I think one can grow out of camping Aril, especially trying to pack a car with camping gear when the rain is hurling down and the tent promising to take off in the wind.
DeleteCamping and living in the past are very similar: better to think about than to actually experience. Having said that, I did enjoy many backpacking/camping trips in my younger days, though I always had my secret escape mechanism - enough money in my wallet to get a pub B&B if the weather got too bad. Those who lived centuries ago had no equivalent option.
ReplyDeleteBrings back memories of the tv show of 'living in the past' John, the mud and rain and preparing the meat. Could not starve myself, tend to faint without eating. But camping can be fun, especially on your own gives you time for reflection.
DeleteA friend of mine bought a very cheap ex-army tent at a sale once and a while later he took it on a camping holiday with his wife. As dusk fell he unwrapped it for the first time and discovered it was a seven foot high by four foot wide toilet tent.
ReplyDeleteHaha, you know how to tell them Tom.
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