I don’t camp any more. I never really liked it and made the decision years ago that when travelling, I’d pay the extra for a decent bed and breakfast. Anyway, this story reminded me of something.
An angry camper who was kept awake by the screams of a child in another tent has asked whether its unreasonable to think that the parents should have taken the toddler home.
While camping is often seen a great family activity, one woman claims to have been left ‘sleep deprived’ after loud screams came from a neighbouring tent right through until the early hours of the morning, reported EdinburghLive.
I understand her frustration. Apart from the general discomfort, this is one of the hazards – inconsiderate neighbours.
One night on the Isle of Man sometime in the night a group of Irish revellers arrived back at their tent well lubricated. They then loudly treated the rest of the site to their wisdom on Irish politics into the early hours. Eventually, they went silent. Another camper suitably incensed by their inconsiderate behaviour got up at around six and banged a pan loudly outside their tent urging them to wake up and enjoy the new day.
Oddly, they didn’t do that for the rest of the week.
These are the latest form of ‘news’ story, it seems. Something on Reddit or Tik Tok gets a few comments, and a paper makes a story out of it.
Some of them are pretty amusing, but if this is what the MSM is now using as filler, journalism is truly dead
I haven’t camped since I was a kid. I like my creature comforts too much. A bed you can live in and an en suite shower as a bare minimum
As a kid the closest that I’ve come to roughing it was family holidays in static caravans. Back then they were a lot more basic than today’s offerings. My wife used to be a girl guide. My experience of camping comes from doing 24 hour races. We have a very big airbeam tent and brilliantly comfy camp beds. My wife’s running club put up event tents for relaxing and outdoor cooking. So I’ve had fun, no screaming babies. Incidentally the world record for 24 hour running is 192 miles. That’s my best ever pace for the parkrun but for twenty four hours.
When I was still a gigging musician, camping at festivals was fine, as long as you could find your tent after your gig and subsequent er… relaxing, lol!
Got lost once at Cambridge folk festival and sat up all night with good people who have been friends for over 30 years now.
Last time camping was at Wombwell music and arts fair, crawled out in the morning feeling very old indeed. Needless to say following year the gig was followed by a nice local hotel with all creature comforts and a hearty breakfast.
The problem I always found with camping was the ground which seemed level and grassy when putting up said tent always feels like you’re sleeping on the side of a boulder strewn volcano.
I am told that blow-up mattresses are the solution, but just seemed like more shit to lug around. Better to stay in a cosy B&B with hot and cold running beer.
My best camping experience happened in France. I’d arrived at the campsite pretty early and pitched my tent. An hour or so later a group of young lads arrived. One of them came over to me and told me, in English, he’d probably seen the motorbike’s registration, that they were going to be playing some music later. Now that surprised me, British lads would just turn up and play their music regardless. So I asked if he meant I should move my tent a bit farther away. Oh no, that won’t be necessary. And he was right, the music was played at a reasonable volume and it was a mix of jazz and blues with a little modern pop music thrown in. I enjoyed it. Whenever I’ve been to France I’ve been impressed with how polite the young people are.
My son had roller skates for his birthday, he took them camping, it was about 9 am he was using them on the pathways. The people in the tent next to ours poked their heads out, told him to be quiet. No doubt suffering from the hangover as they’d woke us up rolling into the tent drunk the previous night.
The following day, early morning, we were packing up to leave. I gave my son the rubbish to dispose off, it included half a loaf of bread. He jumped in the car and said we had better leave. I soon realised why. He’d put all the bread round their tent and every seagull in the area was preparing to dive bomb it.
Revenge is best served cold.
I still adore camping and so does my son
Google “Calvin and Hobbes camping trip” for an amusing take on the subject. I couldn’t work out how to post a link.
Woke up on a parquet floor once wearing only my underwear. Had great posture all day.
Camping – no thanks.