Monday, June 11, 2007
Hell is other people
I'm not aware that Jean-Paul ever went camping, but it seems likely.
I like camping. On my own, failing that, in the sort of campsite where people regard the setting of the sun as an indication that sleep is called for. Unfortunately last weekend we were in the other sort, the ones where people have beer and no regard for their neighbours. Where they are, in short, a bunch of frisbee players of the non-aging variety. And when they did finally crawl into their tents at 1am, having slammed their car doors a few last times, I was so on edge that I ended up prowling the darkened campsite for half an hour, listening to sploshing fish in the lake.
Fortunately I found the earplugs on the second night, so that was rather better. There was a bit of a racket when people got back and found that the prankish young ladies in the team had swapped around everything in their tents, but fortunately Beloved had warned said young ladies off our tent by indicating just how unreasonable I could be. One of the delights of being old (or 40, at least) is that one feels no requirement to play along with the amusements of the young.
Apart from that, it was a good weekend- just the right temperature for the beach. Sandbanks beach was crammed full of seething humanity, real old fashioned beach stuff where you get a patch of sand and defend it against all comers. There must be a game to be designed around the strategic positioning of windrests to dominate the largest patch of sand.
Son and I went to see Pirates 3 (not as easy as it sounds- we made Bournemouth from Sandbanks in about 60 minutes, which is a fast walk) , which was an intrinsically bad film with lots of good bits and therefore quite entertaining- far better than the other way round. And we took his boat and my rented sit-upon kayak onto the waves- there were a lot of these because the jetskis charged up and down just outside the unpowered craft section, generating lots of up and down bits, so that was fun. Jetskis are lethal- apparently you need a licence but the beach were hiring them out to people who didn't look like they had a clue what they were doing. Son has a plan to buy a jetski engine for the back of his kayak but there are some practical problems!
My mood has improved, although work today has felt about twice as long as it usually does and the new drugs are making me dizzy. Provided nothing stressful happens I ought to get through the week. Beloved has gone off to North Wales for a few days, kayak on top of the car, as a rest cure. It will no doubt be good for him although I'm not good at being home alone. Poor Son will be dragged away from WoW to be company for me. He won't mind catching up with Dr Who with me tonight for a start.
I like camping. On my own, failing that, in the sort of campsite where people regard the setting of the sun as an indication that sleep is called for. Unfortunately last weekend we were in the other sort, the ones where people have beer and no regard for their neighbours. Where they are, in short, a bunch of frisbee players of the non-aging variety. And when they did finally crawl into their tents at 1am, having slammed their car doors a few last times, I was so on edge that I ended up prowling the darkened campsite for half an hour, listening to sploshing fish in the lake.
Fortunately I found the earplugs on the second night, so that was rather better. There was a bit of a racket when people got back and found that the prankish young ladies in the team had swapped around everything in their tents, but fortunately Beloved had warned said young ladies off our tent by indicating just how unreasonable I could be. One of the delights of being old (or 40, at least) is that one feels no requirement to play along with the amusements of the young.
Apart from that, it was a good weekend- just the right temperature for the beach. Sandbanks beach was crammed full of seething humanity, real old fashioned beach stuff where you get a patch of sand and defend it against all comers. There must be a game to be designed around the strategic positioning of windrests to dominate the largest patch of sand.
Son and I went to see Pirates 3 (not as easy as it sounds- we made Bournemouth from Sandbanks in about 60 minutes, which is a fast walk) , which was an intrinsically bad film with lots of good bits and therefore quite entertaining- far better than the other way round. And we took his boat and my rented sit-upon kayak onto the waves- there were a lot of these because the jetskis charged up and down just outside the unpowered craft section, generating lots of up and down bits, so that was fun. Jetskis are lethal- apparently you need a licence but the beach were hiring them out to people who didn't look like they had a clue what they were doing. Son has a plan to buy a jetski engine for the back of his kayak but there are some practical problems!
My mood has improved, although work today has felt about twice as long as it usually does and the new drugs are making me dizzy. Provided nothing stressful happens I ought to get through the week. Beloved has gone off to North Wales for a few days, kayak on top of the car, as a rest cure. It will no doubt be good for him although I'm not good at being home alone. Poor Son will be dragged away from WoW to be company for me. He won't mind catching up with Dr Who with me tonight for a start.
# posted by Louise H @ 2:14 pm 
