Beta Mum's Blog Beta Mum on 24 Jun 2007 07:59 pm
Camp Out
Well, now we’re home, dry, warm, the children are in bed an hour earlier than usual and I have my wine in a glass glass and not a plastic simulation of a glass - I can say, with all honesty, if a little amnesia, that we’ve had a great weekend camping in Devon in the rain.
And when I say rain, I mean the kind of constant drizzle interspersed with heavy showers that only the South West of England can offer.
Stay at Home Dad, I’m sure, knows where I’m coming from.
It will be one of those weekends we’ll look back on, and remember only the brief moments when the sun peeked through the clouds to have a quick giggle, before disappearing again to do whatever the sun does when it’s having a laugh.
We pitched the tent in the rain, then made a mad dash back to fetch the children from school - where they didn’t say,
“Oh thank you Mummy and Daddy, for getting wet in the name of a fun weekend communing with nature, don’t worry that you’ve arrived two seconds after the teacher let us out.”
Oh no.
They said,
“You’re late. Where have you been?”
Some of the more sensible members of TVH3 had said -
“Camping? in this weather? You must be joking. We’ll drop by on Saturday if it’s stopped raining.”
Wimps and charlatans, all of them. Or perhaps experienced campers who know how long it takes to dry a wet tent once it’s been packed up and taken home on top of muddy clothes. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Friday evening - we were laughing. No rain, just wet grass and a field full of kids playing football/frisbee/tug-of-war/throwing those funny bomb shaped things that make a noise as they whizz through the air.
The forecasters had, as we suspected, been exaggerating.
Fast forward through one night of (at best) three hours sleep, due to -
a) skimpy foam mattress and irritating sleeping bag that doesn’t behave like a duvet
b) ear plugs which block out the sound of Mike snoring but magnify the sound of my own breathing
c) over-tired 7-year old in next tent having a tantrum at 4am
d) mother leaving the campsite in car at 4.15am to take distressed 6-year old with ear-ache home
e) dawn chorus obliterating good work of ear plugs
f) our own children waking at 6.30am “we didn’t know what time it was Mummy” ready for action
I spend much of Saturday, when the forecasters’ dreams come to fruition, in a haze of sleep deprivation - the like of which I haven’t felt since getting used to life with my first baby.
This temporary comatose state leaves me with a serious sense of humour failure.
I know other people feel the same way when they say things like -
“I never sleep well in a tent.”
“The birds were loud weren’t they?”
“I woke up once an hour, every hour.”
It leaves me wondering why some of these seasoned campers continue to do it.
We’ve been once before on this particular weekend of Hashing Hilarity, and the sun shone and it was fun and the kids enjoyed it and we thought, “Why not go again, never mind the rain?”
Here’s why not -
- the children left their tent unzipped, so they had the choice of clean wet clothes, or muddy damp clothes, for the rest of the weekend.
- when Mike and I put our tent up we must have done one side too tight and another side too loose, so we couldn’t zip it up, and when it rained the water poured into the middle section of the tent
- we had to form little penguin huddles under each other’s gazebos to socialise
- we came home after less than two days away with a week’s worth of washing
On the other hand -
- the children disappeared onto the “Anaconda slide” or the “zip wires” or the “place where that werewolf growled at me over the wall last year, you remember Mummy?” for an hour at a time, returning only when they were too wet or too hungry to stay away
- Mike had his first go at orienteering (in the rain) and loved it
- a teenaged son of a hasher set a treasure hunt for the younger kids, which we did (in the rain) and Ben insisted on finishing despite being soaked
- the children’s Hash went through tunnels occupied primarily by streams, across babbling brooks edged in mud, around fields peopled with confused campers wondering why so many runners were out (in the rain) with their children, then ended up on a pirate ship laden with sweets
A Hasher never has as much fun as when s/he is wet in the name of running.
There’s one more thing - when we pack up the car (in the rain) Hannah wants to be dry. So I suggest she sits in the car and listen to a tape. I turn on the ignition and press the button for the stereo. Nothing. The battery is flat - too long spent with the boot open and the interior light on.
So Mike puts out an all-person alert for jump leads, someone turns up with some and we’re on our way.
Now we’re home, not only have we returned with seven pairs of shoes to wash/polish/chuck out, but I also have a pink pair of cheeks pretending they’ve come into contact with some sun.
How did that happen?
on 25 Jun 2007 at 9:36 am 1.Mother at Large said …
Good to have you back. Always worth doing these things, even if they’re hard work at the time. Sounds like there was lots of fun to compensate for the exhaustion and rain. Was thinking of you over the wet weekend.
on 25 Jun 2007 at 10:34 am 2.Stay at home dad said …
Blimey, is it still raining? My wife was just saying how much fun the rain was. Looking back on it, of course.
on 25 Jun 2007 at 11:51 am 3.Mopsa said …
Camping - yuck. Too old for that. Was too old for it post-25. Need soft bed, hot water and bog with a door that shuts (bog roll appreciated too).
on 25 Jun 2007 at 6:50 pm 4.Beta Mum said …
MatL - how kind of you to spare a thought, while tucked up warm and dry in your northern idyll.
SAHD - it never stops. And already my mind is playing tricks on me. I find myself playing up the good bits when friends smirk and ask how it went.
Mopsa - Indeed, camping is pretty yuck, but there is hot water, the bogs have doors and loo roll. It wasn’t Glastonbury, where I hear there were new loos called She-pees.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,2110483,00.html