The Joys Of Camping
We spent a few days camping at Newgale in Pembrokeshire recently. The weather was pretty foul for August and the wind howled and the rain lashed for most of the five days. The children soon got bored with spending so much time in the tent and took to hanging around the shower block.
They seemed fascinated by the place and would disappear there at every opportunity. Other youngsters seemed to congregate in this area and just lark about. One morning we were about to go out on a trip and I was sent to find the kids, and bring them back! So I headed for the amenities. All was quiet; no sign of our kids, or any others for that matter. I searched the showers, checked the washing up area, calling out all the while, and finally ventured into the gents. The doors in there didn’t quite reach the top and a six foot man could, if necessary, look over and into the cubicle.
No sign of any children but one of the cubicle doors was closed and I could hear movement. I stood looking at the door. I was convinced my kids were hiding in there. I crept up to the door and said, ‘This is your last chance, come out now or there won’t be any ice-cream later.’ No reply.
Right, I thought, and stretched up on tip toes and peered over the top to be greeted by the sight of a man listening to an Ipod quietly going about his business. He looked at me without any surprise and very slowly removed his headphones, and in his deep Welsh baritone asked, ‘Can I help you?’
The look on his face was a delight as I replied, ‘No thanks, I’m looking for a little boy.’
They seemed fascinated by the place and would disappear there at every opportunity. Other youngsters seemed to congregate in this area and just lark about. One morning we were about to go out on a trip and I was sent to find the kids, and bring them back! So I headed for the amenities. All was quiet; no sign of our kids, or any others for that matter. I searched the showers, checked the washing up area, calling out all the while, and finally ventured into the gents. The doors in there didn’t quite reach the top and a six foot man could, if necessary, look over and into the cubicle.
No sign of any children but one of the cubicle doors was closed and I could hear movement. I stood looking at the door. I was convinced my kids were hiding in there. I crept up to the door and said, ‘This is your last chance, come out now or there won’t be any ice-cream later.’ No reply.
Right, I thought, and stretched up on tip toes and peered over the top to be greeted by the sight of a man listening to an Ipod quietly going about his business. He looked at me without any surprise and very slowly removed his headphones, and in his deep Welsh baritone asked, ‘Can I help you?’
The look on his face was a delight as I replied, ‘No thanks, I’m looking for a little boy.’