All the camping gear

Whingeing, just whingeing in the rain

Ah the British weather. Following a period of frankly tropical temperatures, we now find ourselves facing the archetypal British Bank Holiday – a wet one.

Never mind that it’s an extra-special, never-seen-before double-header. Never mind that street parties and afternoon teas everywhere were banking on, if not warm weather, at least a bit dry.

No, the British weather is slave to no one and it does what it bloomin’ well pleases. And it seems what pleases it right now is to try to make up for the two consecutive unseasonally dry winters and pee it down.

I’m not normally that concerned with wet weather. We happily walk the 20 minutes to school in the rain, but the prospect of taking our Tinies on their first camping trip in the rain is not one that fills me with joy. Husband is threatening to mutiny and not go at all – despite it being totally against all that is Yorkshire in him, as it would be a waste of the site fees we’ve paid.

They’ve only been off school a few days and already the Tinies are full of excess energy. We took them on a long walk yesterday afternoon, filled with races to and from the nearest bench/lamppost/sign but it was dry, and actually relatively balmy. Today is wet and positively cold, so we perhaps wouldn’t have chosen to go out for an hour’s walk – except for the fact that jigsaws and building blocks were failing to occupy them and we couldn’t face another episode of Peppa Pig.

So we donned waterproofs – trousers and coats – and wellies and out we went, declaring that we were going in search of puddles to jump in. With great enthusiasm the children rushed out of the house and up the road, stopping to jump in the small patches of wet which counted for puddles. Not quite Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, but you get the idea.

That enthusiasm lasted all of 15 minutes and we were soon met with moaning and whinging. But the alternative – a slow, painful death by children’s tv or, worse, bleeding ears from children fighting and screaming at each other – was a far worse fate, so on we ploughed.

All of our planning for the camping trip has been based on the hopeless optimism that comes with a couple of warm days, involving trips to the beach, nature walks and fossil hunting on the way home. So now I’m off to do a bit of research into indoor activities as well as to think about what kinds of toys we can take that will amuse the children when confined to canvas in the evenings. Oh, and that don’t take up too much room in the car.

All ideas and pearls of wisdom on damp camping gratefully received…

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