To celebrate Dave finishing his contract in London, we took ourselves away for a few days down to Dorset.
We had been considering booking a cheap flight out to the Canary Islands to spend the days lying around on the beach to get some colour back into our pale Celtic skin, but quite honestly I couldn't stand the thought of paying out good money to stay in an apartment complex where the kitchen is a two ring Belling cooker with a dodgy plug and a frayed lead. OK I know that times have changed and standards have improved over the years but when funds were limited and the kids were still young enough to want an early dinner and a nap before their wicked parents dragged them back out to a rustic traditional eaterie that welcomed little munchkins who thought that taramasalata should be worn as well as eaten, we stayed in some pretty ropey apartements. Not that this spoilt our fun, we had some brilliant holidays when they were babies but there did come a time when we realised that if we took them camping in Europe then we could get a lot more for our money and they would have far more freedom then they ever would have in a small apartment with very little outside space.
Now we might be a bit older (just a little bit!) and the chicks have flown the nest but Dave and I still enjoy the freedom that camping gives you, the only problem is, the weather in March is so changable, you have to be pretty hardy (or fool hardy) to go camping even as far south as Dorset at this time of the year. As it happens we had brilliant weather last week, the sun shone every day and, out of the wind, it was positivly balmy but being the wimps we are, rather than risk gales and heavy rain ruining our trip we decided to leave the camper van at home and rent a cabin down by the coast.
We stayed on a holiday park (think Centre Parks without the subtropical swimming paradise) and had found that we were staying in log cabin on a little island set in the middle of a lake. There was only one other cabin on the island and we rarely saw our neighbours but Dave was adopted by some very confident wild fowl who came tapping on the kitchen door each morning and wouldn't go away until he gave them a breakfast of wholemeal bread loving torn into bite sized chucks by his own fair hands.
Our days were spent exploring the villages and coast line of Dorset and in the evening we ate good food, drank lots of wine and snuggled down in front of the fire (only a flame effect electric jobby but who's complaining) where Dave tried to teach me how to do a cryptic crossword rather than the usual general knowledge take a wild guess at it type that I usually choose to do.
So no wild parties or late nights propping up a Spanish bar but for us it was the perfect break and now we are home, batteries charged and ready to face the next chapter....
