My earliest memory of camping when I was about 7 and our whole extended family had borrowed a massive frame tent from Uncle Arthur who was Scout master - I woke up one morning to find an earwig in my pants - I didn't have them on you understand they were in my bag! - put me off so much didn't go again until Guides (once).
OH and I took off for Abersoch with a load of borrowed gear in his souped up Ford Capri one lovely sunny day in 1981 - got to the campsite and wondered why everyone else had camped up at the top of the field .That night the heavens opened - we woke up in a foot of water and it didn't stop raining for 5 whole days.
Finally been persuaded though by my good friends who are seasoned campers that you can't beat it and I have to agree - much as I love the nice sunny days you get on a package to the Med some of my best memories have been in the past few years, toasting marshmallows on the beach watching the sunset at Shell Island.
(bought a Pennine Fiesta though - not daft enough to sleep on the floor )
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Topic: camping in the blood
