Dedicated to Sam x
Josh loves tents. August 2002 found us in Wales for a 2 week camping trip with good friends and their family. We pitched up on a campsite overlooking the sea and settled down for sun and swimming. The first few days were spent on the beach, building sandcastles and burying one another. Having fun
Unbeknown to us, this area of Wales is renowned for having its own micro-climate. We found this out the hard way. Whilst the rest of the country enjoyed uninterrupted sunshine, we were hit by an unexpected storm and forced to change our plans. Waterproof trousers were bought for the children and we hastily searched for indoor activities.
The storm worsened. The campsite emptied and finally even the scouts left. At the height of the storm, our husbands spent a whole day holding the two family tents down for fear they may blow away. Despite all of this, my holiday didn’t feel ruined
In fact, from my perspective, the holiday seemed just fine. Yes it was raining. Yes there was a gale. But we had a huge field to ourselves in which the boys could run safely and freely. I’d spent the last 4 years watching Josh’s every move in fear that he may run off or upset a passer-by. The wet empty field was perfect! The absence of other campers with their stares and unwelcome attention was also a bonus. Nothing that Josh did or needed was a surprise to those of us who remained in the field. Not even a visit to the flooded laundry room and the risk of electrocution was enough to sour my mood.
I am astounded that I failed to notice the depression which was setting over my adult companions. My lack of insight was so great that when it was suggested we went home I was genuinely surprised. I thought everyone was as happy as me! I had clearly mistaken their gallows humour for genuine enjoyment
This camping experience was so traumatic for my friend Sam that it took her many years before she would go near a tent again. The rat that visited her pod during the night was her breaking point. Andy was so miserable that he vowed we would never have a main summer holiday in the UK again; Steve was bemused that I thought holding a tent down for a whole day made for a good holiday.
Though I badly misread the situation, I do remember the freedom that I felt as I watched Josh and Olli toddle and crawl in a field. They were happy and safe; I was happy and relaxed. I was with dear friends who despite my oblivion to their pain, still love us all completely. I had felt at peace for first time in a long while. My memories are good ones
Flower in the Rain 