I know what you’re thinking; that’s not a very seaside-y picture up there is it? Well, that’s because it wasn’t a totally seaside-y holiday. We’ve just spent three days near the north Norfolk coast with Steven and Anthony, and although the days weren’t all full of sandy beaches, the coast did feature quite a bit. With unseasonably warm and sunny weather, it could well have been the middle of summer. Of course, it also made three nights under canvas last week much more bearable. They hadn’t been before, but our non-camping friends enjoyed it so much that they may will chuck the tent in the car again next year.
For camping virgins they did very well with their kit. The stoves and pans were fast at cooking, and the tent was the perfect size. We’d bought a new six-man one, which once it had taken four of us to get up, was in all honesty, more than a little too big. Two small cars could easily have fitted inside with room to spare, although it did make for cosy evenings with all four of us sitting around the table to eat by wind-up lantern. There was room to stand up in it, too, which easily beats crouching down to do everything in the two-man tent. The only downside was the lack of groundsheets and broken poles, which made putting it up more interesting (and longer - Steven and Anthony’s 80 minutes were positively speedy) than it should have been.
The groundsheet problem was easily sorted, though, with four well-chosen tarpaulins from a local army surplus store. They were essential. At night, it was so misty, that the moisture from the ground was rising and making the inside of the canvas roof wet, making it appear to rain in the open spaces of the tent. September was definitely the latest camping should be done, with April probably the earliest. But, there are new poles winging their way to us as I write this, so we should be able to use the marquee (sorry, tent) again next year.
It was a relaxing three days. They were slow, starting with a tea and scrambled eggs on toast breakfast, followed by gentle ambles to the north Norfolk coastal towns. Cromer welcomed us for a spot of geocaching, while we rode the charming steam train from a bygone age on the Poppy Line at Sherringham, which took us to Holt for a spot of lunch. There were laughably over-the-top (some of us laughing more uncontrollably than others) cliched tea rooms, and stone-skimming on the pebbles inbetween, with strawberries and cream fudge and card-playing by candlelight to be remembered, too.
Just as the campsite website recommends, we relaxed, unwound, and forgot the stresses of day-to-day life. And with two all-male couples, was it camp camping? Certainly not. That was Carry on Camping, which we watched after we were home on Sunday evening.