I hate camping. Hate it.
To be fair, when I was a child and my parents took me camping, I bloody loved it. We went to so many places: Spain; Wales; Italy; France.. and we all had a ball. That was with my Mum and Dad and Sister. We slept well, we ate well, we played and swam and had a ball.
Well these days, I’m not sure cramming my 4 boys in a sweaty tent with no wifi, no washing machine and a very loudly snoring husband is quite my bag 😂.
It would be fair to say that the mere thought brings me out in a cold sweat.
(We did try a static caravan once and that nearly finished me off. The fact that I was pregnant with number 4 boy-child and could not even relax with a pint of wine may have tipped me over the edge..)
Hubby and kids are really up for it (in a feral-caveman type way I think) so in the vein of sportsmanship-wife-kind-of-thing – I have come to a compromise, and we are going to hire a MotorHome for 3 weeks on our arrival in NZ. (And 5 sets of ISOLATE earplugs 😆).