Camping not Glamping....

We three went to Welsh Wales, Shell Island to be precise: 450 acres of coastal camping with dunes and rock pools and sand. Old fashioned camping where you pitch where you like, light your own fire and survive. Hubby stayed home, to mind the house, chicks and cats.... not keen on camping that one.

We three loved it and we did survive, purely because the 8yo and I pitched the tent very, very well. Therefore it didn't take off in the 5 days of sporadic gale-force winds and driving rain. In fact our tent was really very toasty and as a billy-bonus we are all really good at card games now!

The 6yo wasn't really a happy camper when there was work to be done...

On the way home I asked the babes to write a list of the Good bits about our holiday and the Bad bits. The 6yo wrote on the Bad side:

1. The Tent. 
2. Home
3. DSi
4. The Showers

I asked him to explain what he'd written. Turns out he hated pitching the tent, (even though he didn't even help - just walked around with a tent peg in his hand!)

Home was similar, he didn't enjoy packing up the tent to go home!! (Me either, it was pouring with rain and blowing a Hooley. In the end I actually had a little weep.)

The DSi issue was because I rationed it for night-time so it didn't run out of charge.

The Showers because he felt he'd got clean enough in the sea....no need for shower nonsense surely? 

The 8yo was more measured; her bad list only featured the weather.


The good news is they both had ten or twelve Good things on the positive side of their lists. The 6yo listed as the best bit of the holiday - my new friend Levi. A lovely boy from the tent next to ours. The 8yo loved crabbing, marshmallows, our new bucket bbq, the beach, fish and chips, playing cards and sleeping close to Mummy... ahhhh...

I didn't physically write a list but in my head I didn't nominate the weather or the showers or even the effort involved in pitching or packing up the tent. I'm sad to say that my bad list would feature some of the other campers. My children were treated to some of the worst language I have heard in a long time and some of that language spilled from the mouths of youths. Potty mouths! Also we were treated to a firework display on the Saturday night, lit by some alcohol fueled twits who refused to adhere to the premise that explosive devises shot into the sky will eventually return to earth, ....... no doubt setting fire to the nearest tent!

Fireworks are a big no no on this site and site security ejected the perpetrators from Shell Island the next morning.

Anyhoo both the sprogs were mega happy with the crabbing and ocean activity, regardless of the weather, and Shell Island really does live up to its name with hundreds of shells washed up on the beach...

One day we took a trip to the mountains to the Snowdonia National Park where a lot of mining has taken place over the years - mostly for slate. We went down a mine with an unpronounceable name Llechwedd Slate Caverns [Llech (similar to 'loch') - wedd (the 'dd' is soft).]

As we were sat on the little train descending into the depths of the earth, sexy hard hats perched on our heads, I suddenly remembered being ten years old and being with my parents in the exact same mine. The mine tours began in 1976 and as I peered into the darkness at the dimly lit caverns we passed, it was clear the staging hadn't changed since my last visit. Ladies-wear store mannequins masquerading as miners, posed with flat caps and shovels. False beards looked really strange on their feminine features. My silly humour kicked in and when our butch miner-guide asked if we had any questions, it was all I could do not to ask just how many transvestite miners there were in the 1800s.

Original pic from mine beginning 1860

I held back.














Wales is beautiful, even in the rain, especially if you have your family with you..... and how nice was it to get home to Hubby on the Sunday afternoon. He dried us off, re-pitched the tent to allow it to dry and fed us well. Home sweet home.