How To Camp.

That title is a complete lie. I have no idea how to camp. I do know, however, that it is extremely popular at this time of year. Is it enjoying some sort of revival at the moment?

Anyway, I spent the day with friends at the Umina Camp Ground, a mini city set up on the shores of the beach. My friends, The Maher’s, are black belt campers. They even take their own fridge to keep the wine cool. There are unwritten rules of camping, which I asked Mrs Maher and her Camp Neighbour (whose name I have forgotten) to explain a few to me.

  • Respect the boundaries. You are ill-thought of if your tent ropes cross over onto someone else’s patch of dirt.
  • Drink a lot of alcohol. It helps you sleep in extreme heat and blocks out the noise of your neighbours, who choose the time of 11.45pm to have a huge blue.
  • Be friendly with your neighbours, but not too friendly. Have chats on neutral territory. Shut down suggestions of joint dinners etc, because you really don’t know what you are getting yourself into.
  • Keep your site in an organised fashion. Remove rubbish regularly. Wear thongs to the bathroom.
  • Respect the campsite chicken.
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Respecting Monica, 5 seconds before she took a massive dump.

  • Do not allow your kids to enter other peoples tents. Do not allow strange children into your tents.
  • Sit around a lot.
  • Look at people who walk past and admire their tattoos and breeding ability.
  • Get excited when a bit of breeze arrives.
  • Bathe oneself in Aeroguard.
  • Embrace the sausage sizzle. Ditto cordial.
  • Avoid the communal swimming pool, otherwise known as SKIN CELL BAND AID SOUP.

Camping has changed a lot since I last did it. I think I would have been about 7. It was real camping. No electricity, no lights, no pools, cooking over a fire, and very long days of sitting around looking at each other. That bit has not changed.

Camping.

Do you get it?