The Good Friday Tent Disaster

In the run up the the long Easter weekend, this family had a tummy bug. All of us. Five people puking and groaning and feeling sorry for ourselves. Six if you count Trev’s ex wife who caught it from the girls. It was unpleasant. Dealing with a baby with a tummy bug when you’re suffering yourself is no fun at all. 

I’d been hoping all week that we’d all be well again by Friday, as we’d booked a campsite for two nights. Actually we booked it ages ago when we heard the news that a heatwave was predicted. Unfortunately we woke up on the Friday to find that the heatwave had very much not turned up. It was nowhere to be seen. Instead we opened the curtains to be greeted by dark grey cloud and patches of rain. 

It’s not our style to back out of an outdoors adventure because of a bit of weather. This family don’t do that. We pull our welly boots on and we just go for it. 

On arrival at Pitton Cross Caravan and Campsite in Rhossili, we were greeted with freezing cold wind. Not a little bit of wind. Full scale seafront gales. You could barely stand up. So we packed up the tent and went home. 

I’m joking. Of course we didn’t. 

With a bit of help from a campsite worker person and a man in the caravan next door, we ploughed ahead. The children (ours and one belonging to caravan man) held the tent down at all four corners. I say held it down, but I’m pretty sure that at one point nobody had their feet on the floor. The first pole went in only to snap as the wind pulled the tent into the air and our wellies sunk into the mud. 

That’s the point where Iris decided she’d had enough of her perch in the baby backpack peering over my shoulder. The poor kid had gone a bit purple from the cold anyway, so we hid in the car for a bit. An hour or so later it looked sort of like the tent was finally going to stand. 

 

The whole camping trip had been my idea. At this point I was regretting it slightly.  The car felt like it might take off if we didn’t peg it down, and it’s quite a bit heavier than the tent. The kids were running back and forth to the campsite shop buying more and more pegs. But it stood. The tent was standing. 
Very very briefly. 

Then I heard a commotion and Trev declaring it was game over. Back in the car. We have to go home. Eldest kid had previously been wailing ‘we’re all gonna die’ at the top of her lungs so maybe heading home was the right thing. 

The broken pole had ripped through the side of the tent. It really was game over. 

A silently relieved me and a very grumpy family headed home. 

The dog made it quite clear that he thought we’d all lost the plot. 

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One thought on “The Good Friday Tent Disaster

  1. Pingback: Camping At The Seaside (Part One) | mousedogbaby

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