"Agree to what?" I hear you cry (inquisitively).
"To go camping, that's what."
Yep, you read right. C.A.M.P.I.N.G......... Me. Lady M. Proponent of all things luxurious and all things stuffed with duck down.
I had been duped into partaking in a pastime that I had previously denounced as barbaric: Akin to bear baiting, dog fighting, and sympathising with investment bankers.
Pic.No.1. Ahhhh. Camping in the UK is a heart-warming affair
I had been duped into camping. So instead of sleeping in my comfortable bed, having long hot showers, and knocking up leisurely lunches on my ample cooker, I was faced with the prospect of sleeping on a plank in a semi-waterproof nylon room, and trying to scrape together a meal using a single miniature gas-burning stove. Why would I want to do that?! I didn't want to do that, but as I say, I was duped.
It gets worse; there wasn't going to be room service or a Concierge in the tent. And that is before I start on the lack of electricity or internet connection. Let's look at how Stone Age men lived and then compare it with camping - see what I mean? - there's not much in it. Well except for the clothes. Looking on the bright side, at least I'll be wearing jeans and boots rather than a loincloth fashioned from pelt (although I wasn't 100% sure that'll be the case).
For god's sake, I'm a human being! I have my needs and my rights! If I was supposed to grub around living off the land, I would have been born a Badger.
Pic.No.2. But I'm not a Badger!
So how did I get myself into this scrape? It was totally my daughter's fault. No actually, thinking about it, it was Izzy's Dad's fault. He had decided to take Izzy camping to help keep her entertained during the school holidays. So far so good. But then, during one of his regular coffee visits to my house, he got some devilment in him and said to Izzy; "shall we ask your Mummy if she wants to come camping?"
What a git. As soon as the words had fallen out of his mouth, I started frantically sawing the side of my hand across my throat ...... "Noooooooo!" I mouthed at him behind Izzy's back. But it was too late. Izzy had picked up the baton and was running with it.
Not only was she running with it, but she was jumping up and down and clapping with happiness. To turn down a five year old who was so excited to have you camp with her, would have been like killing a kitten. So I hugged Izzy and said; "Ok darling, I would love to go camping with you," whilst silently mouthing "you bastard," to Steve who was laughing in the background.
So, tomorrow I will be driving to a campsite in Swanage for a "camping holiday" (that's got to be an oxymoron). I'm not sure how long I'll be away, but the good news is that I have got two amazing Guest Bloggers lined up to keep you entertained....... please put your hands together for .......................
Ron Reed from "If I had a Blog" (who will be writing tomorrow)
Brahm from "Alfred Lives Here" (who will be writing on Wednesday)
Enjoy! And see you when I get back.