I have just returned from braving the great outdoors. Four days of hiking across the beach, yomping through dense vegetation, abseiling down cliffs and braving the pounding surf in search of the perfect wave.
Lies, lies, lies!
Someone in the last post suggested that I may be staying in a tent so I thought I had better set the record straight.
Many years ago I stayed in a tent for one night. When we got home I said to the MD "If you ever make me do that again I am going to kill you, or leave you, or both". The feckers were small, we hated hotels, so we bought a caravan instead.
Don't get me wrong, I really do like the outdoors as long as it doesn't interfere with the indoors. When I'm on holiday I like all the comforts of home - oven, a microwave, shower, central heating and somewhere to plug in me laptop. If the weather is bad then there is nothing I like better than curling up on a sprung mattress with a good book while the storm rages around me. I don't see the point in sitting in the rain waiting for a kettle that takes three hours to boil.
Strangely we are not thought of as real campers. Without the morning trip to the launderette to dry the sleeping bags (ugh) and the smell of wet grass permeating everything (double ugh) we are treated with disdain by those hardy souls who are getting back to nature. If the weather is good then I spend just as much time outside as they do and have even been known to walk about a bit!
Anyway, I say 'nuts' to all of them, 'fire up the barbecue and get me another beer from the fridge!'