The obvious holiday of choice for any pregnant lady is, of course, camping in Suffolk (preferably on a wet weekend in September). This week my wife’s dream holiday became a reality. We found a fantastic campsite, packed up the two-man tent I got for my sixteenth birthday, and headed off, not in the least disturbed by the less than fantastic weather forecast.
It took me no time at all to put up the tent. It did, however, take quite some considerable time to make the tent not lean forward in a worrying fashion. Faith helpfully waddled around the tent and pointed out the leaning direction. The tent ended up doing a great job. It didn’t leak, even though it rained so hard one night I thought it was the end of time. Getting in and out of the tent was the only real issue of the holiday and that was more funny than a problem.
Faith has started experiencing some brutal heartburn and sleeping in the middle of a field wasn’t so easy, so we got up earlier than the keenest milkman. We took the opportunity to start up a fire, sit in our sleeping bags and watch the sun rise. Turns out it takes a while for the sun to come up. It was quite idyllic.
During the days we wandered around old towns and castles. I pushed Faith on the uphills and she anchored me on the downhills. It was a whole lot of fun.
The thing with camping is that it’s great to go… but it’s great to come back. Hot water, our own toilet, central heating, a bed and proper coffee. But what Faith’s really happy about is ready access to an unlimited supply of Gaviscon.
