It Takes a Special Kind Of Idiot

It Takes a Special Kind Of Idiot

Friday, 19 October 2012

Who actually goes camping in this country in October? On what basis does that ever seem like a better idea than, say, shoving your head in a box of overstimulated spiders?

Well it wasn't a better idea, but we did it anyway.

For me, a big part of my promise to my children is about being open to every opportunity to have fun and make new experiences: Even if they aren't necessarily my idea of fun and especially if they are outside of my comfort zone.

I have Reynauds, so about this time every year I get pretty wimpy about being outdoors for long periods of time. I am still a little scarred from weekends at the Pod where the only thing between you and frostbite were occasional trips to the toilets to huddle under the hand drier. There were times I actually wondered if I could sleep the night under those driers.

This is by way of giving you context of how much I was dreading this trip. More specifically, how much I was dreading that horrible three am wakeup call when your feet have been replaced by something dead and you wonder if there is any way your bladder can hold out until the sun comes up.

The children had no such problems because children couldn't care less if they have hypothermia as long as they are having fun.

Fun for my son is making leaf boats and racing them across the puddles in the campsite

  

It is sleeping in a “den” with his dad

It is helping Jody make French Toast

It is collecting his own body weight in conkers.

It is inspecting a punctured tyre and wheeling it up the lane to show to a field full of moo-cows.

 Fun for my daughter is stealing the clotted cream pots when we stop for a cream tea.

Fun for me is being there to see them suck the marrow out of every last moment ...

And then enjoying a well-earned cuppa while they sleep.