And so, last night we used Joni the beautiful camper van for the thing she is truly made for.
No, not that.
We went on an adventure.
Now, there is a difference between an adventure and an 'adventure'- the latter being the way in which Tom brands horrendous experiences where we drive round in the dark a lot, looking for somewhere to sleep.
Last night was somewhere inbetween.
As a reaction to doing lots of things all at once and being very busy all of the time, we decided to disappear for the night and go somewhere really peaceful, somewhere we could wake up in the morning and be aware of...nothing. It was going to be heaven.
After a brief chat with a friend recently who mentioned a lovely deserted beach in Kent, we decided to head there. In typical Frankland style, we didn't check the map VERY carefully, we didn't note down the address of any campsites and I didn't pack any socks.
We did, however, remember to roast a selection of vegetables to have with our camping cous cous.
On arriving on Sheppey Island, about 90 minutes away from home, we were surprised to find that it was a little bit like going on holiday in Croydon. Now, don't get me wrong, I like Croydon- it has a very nice if massively confusing shopping centre and I often end up meeting old friends unexpectedly at the train station. But it is not my first choice for a holiday destination.
If it wasn't for the football, I'd be very nervous about the sheer volume of England flags on the island, and there were lots of people shouting at each other in the car park at Tesco. It is fair to say that we were feeling a little nervous about finding somewhere to sleep.
After stopping in at various holiday parks, we once again fell victim to not driving a static caravan. It was reminiscent of a trip to Brighton during which we met the rudest woman IN THE WORLD EVER who was very mean about Joni as she didn't have Broadband or armchairs. When looking through campsite reviews, we tend to look for reviews that criticise the site for being 'a bit basic.' Not for the ones where the toilets have underfloor heating and Radio 2 piped into the shower block. (that was an actual place. Never, I repeat NEVER, go camping in Taunton)
As it began to get dark, and I began to lose my sense of humour (and the comfort of my feet due to the lack of socks) we eventually found a campsite with a little corner, just for us. It wasn't picturesque (although I THINK I could see the sea through some brambles, through the hedge, through some barbed wire, and through a line of static caravans) but it was just what we needed. A little corner, just for us.
When we go anywhere at all, I often imagine an aerial view. Last night I imagined in the aerial view that on the other side of the hedge there was the most beautiful campsite, a lush green field, apple trees, little pond,perfect sea view, deers wandering through the grass, free wine, fresh croissants for breakfast..that sort of thing. And there we were, on the other side of the hedge, parked very close to a bush that seemed to be producing mosquitos at an alarming rate, a toilet with no locks on and a skip that pigeons kept flying out of.
And you know what..
It was perfect.
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