Whatever that means
When on an industrial campsite it’s nice to pass the time just watching people come and go, putting up their tents and taking them down again and marvelling at the amount of stuff people take and how hard they try to reconstruct home with a three bedroom tent, a wee windbreak barrier around the door that looks like a garden, a wee collapsible table that can seat four for meals and even collapsible cupboards and wee stands that the two-ring stove, with grill, can sit on. Today I saw a first – a washing up bowl on a wee stand with integrated draining board. Getting away from it all by taking it all with you. We look like freaks sitting on the ground in front of our (relatively) wee tent cooking on a trangia.
Anyway, the plus side of hardly having any stuff is that you can get it all packed away in no time, cook breakfast while the groundsheets are drying off and be on the road by 10. Without even hammering it up the road, we were home by 4.30 mainly because we ate on the move, only stopped for long enough to swap driving, have a pee and stretch the legs a little. I quite like Lancaster’s air traffic control shaped tower. An intentional feature that used to house a swanky restaurant.
I thought we were back tomorrow so now I’ve got a day off work to fill. But some catching up to do first.