Specimens

The camp site we stayed at might not feature in the 2006 edition of UK camping and caravanning, but it still managed to be a sell-out over the long weekend. While some of the static tents (up all across the summer and owned) were vacant all the travelling pitches were occupied.

Even as we were registering the manager of the site was fielding calls from optimists hoping at the last minute to secure somewhere to stay. That night we became aware that those we were sharing the site with were largely large and well organised groups from Oop Noorth with a decided taste for red and white clothing. The following morning those same groups were up bright and early, decked out almost to a man, woman and child in brilliant white and bright red - St Helens supporters off to Twickers to watch their team beat Huddersfield (I think, my interest in Rugby League being extremely limited) in Rugby League's Challenge Cup final.

Good luck to them. Despite the convincing win they were admirably quiet coming back afterwards and left early the next morning to get home.

The family next to us on one side were already well set up when we arrived and were still struggling pack as we left for the last time. This was an intriguing set up with a very much older wife (mid forties I'd guess) and a partner who although absolutely immense can't have been much more than thirty plus an assortment of male children ranging in age from about twelve down to about seven, so possibly not all hers, and a female baby. It was never absolutely clear how many of the children were theirs as some of the children swirling about the tent might have been hangers on their children had picked up, as children are wont to do.

The first night the boys were delighted to be able to tuck into McDonalds meals brought in and we sniggered at their inability to set aside for even a few days the trappings of what they consider to be civilisation. The second night we had the opportunity to observe dad or step-dad's barbequing skills and made a rapid reassessment of the kids' position vis-a-vis McDonalds. Whether a conscious act or otherwise their demands for something cooked by someone else were nothing more or less than an act of self-preservation.

Haystacks (immense, shaven-headed and bearded) laid down fire starters then coals then a layer of fire-starter gel, lit the lot then immediately slapped on the food. The result was food (burgers) that was char-grilled on the outside and in all probability still frozen on the inside.

Some of our fellow site occupants are semi-permanent. One jovial jock lives in a two man tent from the time the site opens in spring until the day it closes in October. When he's sober he's almost incomprehensible due to his thick Scottish accent; when he's drunk (and he was, every evening we were there) he's totally incomprehensible. Happy but incomprehensible.

I've already mentioned the cheating site manager who wrote the quiz night questions then took part and the smug cow with her yuppie-mobile (actually one of the new model bugs).

The rest of the site population were exactly the sort of people you'd find on any camp site and pretty much indistinguishable from campers anywhere. Some people regard camping as an exercise in extreme minimalisation while others will travel with and spend an hour each morning using the make-up kit and the hair straightening tongs.

I hadn't been camping since leaving Australia. My father was very keen on the outdoors and we did some camping en famille before he died. After that I did some camping after uni, particularly down along Victoria's southern coast. The thing that struck me was that the experience really hasn't changed a great deal in all that time (which let's face it is heading for half a century of past).

I'm glad we went away because I had a couple of days off work, out of the house, out of town, out of the county, on the road, doing something different that was comfortingly familiar at the same time. Would I do it again? Yes, I would go camping again.

The Fat Bastard walked Hadrian's Wall one summer (with someone who's word I trust, plus he has the certificate to prove it) and wants to get his Winter Certificate. All fired up by all this family activity he wants now to travel up to the border to do the walk this winter, with me and the Infant along for the ride (though possibly putting up in a B&B). His argument is that B will see 'proper' snow for the first time. My counter argument is that unless our finances dramatically improve we'll be spending our budget for next summer's holiday activities on something that's essentially an indulgence.

I guess we'll be up on the border in Winter.

Which is a shame really because our outing to Windsor and the time we spent pootling about on the Thames in our hired boat fired us all up with enthusiasm for a holiday on a narrow boat and that would require some serious effort to save money. Boat hire would run into about £150-£200 per person per week - comparable perhaps to a week in some grotty Euro-resort, but a lot more expensive than a week on a camp site.

Being optimistic I'd like to think that B and I could do it even if not with the Fat Bastard, but that would take some changes to current arrangements.