A couple of months ago, we went on an idillic, fun, nostalgic and relaxing camping trip, it was such a lush weekend we decided to go again with the same people, however this time was less relaxing and so disastrous it was almost comical…almost.
A mix of 2 over excited men and a little bit too much spontaneity, add in some bad weather and a kid who was a little bit more Almost-a-Teenager then he was 8 weeks ago and our path to relaxation was never going to be smooth.
It started badly even before we left home and to be honest I didn’t really want to go. The two men and our dog went down in the van and the girls, the lad and his dog were planning to follow later. I helped pack the van up and we were all wondering why there was so much extra space, anyway I waved them off and all was good in the world….
…Until my friend arrived home and realised that her other half hadn’t packed any of their stuff into the van, so we had to pile all of their stuff that was meant for the van into the car, along with my extra stuff, bags full of food shopping, camping chairs, an almost teenage boy and a dog. We all squeezed into the car, already feeling the stress…
By the time we arrived the boys were already drunk and for some unknown reason an Asda shopping basket had been unloaded from the van and was left at the entrance to our camping pitch, for all to see, making us look like total chavs, I was mortified! I moved it so it was hidden behind the windbreak, it was dark by the time we ate and by bedtime Mr Gypsie was so drunk he rambled crap and argued with me for half the night before eventually nodding off. I was sober and tired and really upset by it all. Wanting to stay away from him the next day I got up at the crack of dawn and took my pup for a stroll along the beach and watched the sun rise in the moody sky. Beautiful.
When I got back to the camp that bloody Asda basket had found its way back to the entrance to our camp, in full view of everyone again. How? I moved it again.
My husband was very apologetic but we argued on and off and the rain fell on and off all day and no one could really agree on what to do, the lad wanted to play football with his dad (who did not feel the same), eventually we went for a walk and almost got a ferry over to Hurst Castle, which was all fun until it rained so heavily my dog started crying and we had to abandon ship and head for the nearest pub, great more booze! Just what we needed! Eventually we headed back to the camp to dry off, and imagine my disgust when that fucking shopping basket was back in full view! Who kept doing this? As if all the arguing and drinking hadn’t made us look enough like chavs that basket kept appearing to seal the deal!
We again couldn’t agree on what to do, the lad was bored and wanted to play or go to the beach, the men wanted to go to the pub and I just wanted to go home. As the rain began to fall again We compromised on walking to the beach on the way to the pub and by the time we got there all was well, Mr Gypsie and I were back in love and we all sat in the pub eating cheesy chips, the boys promising we would eat before it got dark this time and laughing about what good friends we were to be able to have fun together on such a nightmare trip, but after another spat between me and Mr Gypsie back at the campsite, the lad finally getting his dad to play football with him, dog poos, headaches, lost tobacco, found tobacco, more booze, we found ourselves sitting around the smoker in the pitch black at 10pm eating pizza much to my lovely friends dismay. At least me and Mr Gypsie were getting on better by that point, it had only taken the whole weekend!
By the time we packed up our tent and finally threw the offending Asda basket back in the van the next morning I realised no body cared what we were doing or if we had an Asda shopping basket with us, they were all busy enjoying their own holidays. We stopped off in lymington for a spot of crabbing and then a bite to eat in the pub before finally arriving at home sweet home.
Do I wish we had stayed at home all along? Maybe. Is it better to take lots of rough with the very little smooth when going away? Who knows. A week later I can look back on it and see that we had fun, it certainly wasn’t relaxing and I can still remember how miserable I felt being on holiday and arguing with my husband. I can’t imagine I’ll be going camping for a little while but I certainly won’t let one bad weekend change my mind on going! If nothing else it was an experience, not everything can be perfect. You win some you lose some I guess.