Last weekend I went camping.


Camping is one of those things I used to get dragged along to as a child, only to eliminate it from my life when I gained independence from family decisions.

Now, though, I’m going camping voluntarily. I even looked forward to it. This getting older thing has a great deal to answer for.

It’s a funny concept, really: driving into the middle of nowhere, setting-up a temporary existence in a field and letting go of all the amenities you’ve come to rely on.

Oh, and it costs money – albeit not that much.

Our little group visited a campsite called Llanmadoc in the Gower, near Swansea. It wouldn’t have been out of place in a slasher movie.

Its main selling points?

  • Hot water costs 50p
  • Showers are open for approx. 5 hours per-day
  • Really long grass
  • Toilet rolls cost 50p
  • Only location in Britain to sell Astro Belts (remember those?)

Still, the hot weather proved enough to tempt people away from hair-dryers and Challenge TV for at least 2 days, as the place was bloody packed.

Apart from running into the same guy in the shower block on 3 consecutive occasions – made worse by the shoulder-height cubicles allowing for an extremely awkward atmosphere – the whole thing was terrific.

Those youthful days spending hour upon hour racing around on a warm beach, being battered and thrown around by the waves, thoroughly sunburnt and sea-weary, throwing yourself off rocks into the water below? They all came racing back with a sense of invigorating glee.

No frills. All fun. Would recommend.

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