Our last family outing was staying in a hut at the Low Wray campsite in Cumbria. The night before we left, N's friend came over having just gotten back from a few days with his family at another campsite very nearby. His parents asked if we wanted any camping equipment. Do I give the impression that I long to commune with nature and shake off the fetters of civilzation? I ardently admire and love those fetters, cleaving to to them as to the breast of a kind and protective parent. As noted previously my husband has been very patient about all the places I've marched us off to and this was one of the very few things he really wanted to do while we were here, so my response to his good nature was to not actively resist but also pointedly made very little effort to assist with any preparations for the expedition except for packing, which I did quite poorly. Anyway, T said he didn't think we needed much so I told the kid's parents that we were fine. We must have set off blaring alarms that we had absolutely no idea what we were doing, because about 15 minutes after the kid was picked up his mom texted me that she was sending her husband back to drop some stuff off. These were folding chairs, a table, a butane stove because no fires are allowed in some campsites due to dry weather (lol), a kettle, and headlamps, without which we would have had a very dreary time in our little hut,.

The campsite was run by the National Trust and had a correspondingly sedate crowd, lots of Nordics. Quiet hours of 10pm to 7am scrupulously adhered to. We had a hut with a double bed and a bunk about two minutes' walk from the showers/bathrooms/sinks for doing dishes. A pizza truck ran a few nights a week and the office was well stocked with equipment, snacks, and hot drinks. In sum, it barely qualified as camping and the experience solidified my disinclination to ever venture into more rugged territory. Outdoor activities limited to token immersions in the lake and a two-hour walk ("We took qute a few walks", said N's friend resignedly when I asked how they had passed their time). This walk was for me marred by what I later realized was an inadequate breakfast, and as we walked over the hills dodging cow pats my mood matched the gray roiling sky. At least I was having a better day than the Aryan couple looking for a dropped set of keys. After lunch when I'd perked up, I realized I'd had another lucky escape. All the while we've been living here, I've been hearing from people raving about their ten day walking holidays and reading about treks between ruins of Druid temples and whatnot, and I'd thought that might be something fun for us to do when the kids are older. I now know that long tramps through damp fields where you may have to go literally hundreds of minutes between cups of tea would not be my preferred form of leisure.

But overall a nice time. On the second day I knew that one sachet of instant chai prepared with the handy butane stove was not enough. Also thanks to the stove we made an attempt at s'mores on digestive biscuits, although the chocolate covered ones would have saved a lot of mess over trying to add the chocolate separately. Taking a nap with the rain beating down on the roof of the hut was very cozy. And by the second night, the sky was clear enough for us to actually see some stars which had been T's goal for this whole endeavor.