I woke up this morning with a tight chest, and a feeling that my life was bleeding away, getting taken up by a trillion tiny unimportant things. Ads. Cookies. Politics. Facebook. Weathermen telling us with wonder that the earth is getting hotter. Stressful thoughts. I had a strong suspicion that I would soon lose any chances of me getting away to destress this summer before it was all gone. I had found my tent. I could just disappear. But then I decided it might be better if I okay it with my family first. Once they green-lit me and I confirmed neither of them like camping and were happy for me to go off by myself, I started forming my plan.
I remembered my time camping in Japan with great fondness, and those few sheets of paper that had a multitude of campsite information on them. Maybe I could create my own guide by researching and visiting campsites in Scotland? Helping campers and my future selves bypass Google and all the camping booking websites by gathering phone numbers and getting my feet dirty by getting my boots on the ground and personalising the experience, updating things on my blog to serve as a reminder to myself and signpost for others?
So I scanned Google Maps and Pitchup.com and cast about for a handful of potential first nighters within 50 miles of my house, and tried Ring Farm first. I wanted to go up to Fife, somewhere new, and in the middle of nowhere. So I called the number and a nice lady answered and seemed only too happy for me to turn up the same day.
My first generation red 2017 Nissan Leaf (real-life range 85 miles) was fully charged off the solar panels and ready to go, except I needed lunch and the car needed its tyres checked, but I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to get on the road.
I drove north-east towards Kirkcaldy, where I found an actual Stephen’s Bakery with an EV charging station in the car park. This made me very happy. I was sick of Greggs and its cold sausage rolls. A bakery that doesn’t sell hot food! Ridiculous! I often made a point of purchasing Stephen’s (award-winning) seeded morning rolls at the local Scotmid, and this was my first time actually finding a real building. With charging point no less! Unfortunately the charging point did not recognise my car and became frigid at the very thought of communing in the biblical sense. But I didn’t care – I was on the road again – and it was all part of the adventure.
In Stephen’s I'd already targeted my sausage roll, when to my delicious delight, the deli drifted into my discernment. Two seeded morning rolls to go please, one with tuna mayo and the other with chicken mayo, both with mayo (did I mention that?) salad, a cup of tea, a cookie, and fuck it, a large hot sausage roll. I guzzled my prizes at my car, cup of tea on roof, while striving to keep cap on head and decide whether to call about the EV charger or not. The tuna mayo roll was bliss. I devoured the sausage roll I don’t think without chewing – just inserting it down my gullet like a pelican sword swallower. Alas I was now too full to attempt the second roll and made an executive decision to go straight to choc chip cookie, which melted in the mouth like only a soft choc chip cookie can – like me melting into the sofa post a hard week’s work. I, and by association the cookie, were home. In my mouth.
I decided to drive off but notify the EV charger company en route of the fault as I still had half a tank of battery, was itching to get moving again, but felt a responsibility to my fellow EV’ers. This I did, and the woman was most apopleptically apologetic, gently chiding me for not having downloaded the app, for which I forgave her.
I plugged in the postcode for the Rings Farm into the Nissan sat-nav and soon found myself somewhere in the middle of Fife, and my imagination kicked off on a story called, “The Melting Man”, where a guy driving an EV runs out of battery in the middle of nowhere in Fife and sees a sign saying, “One night only Melting Man Festival!” He follows it only to find some very sinister goings on and that he himself becomes at risk of (spoiler alert) being the ‘Melting Man’.
Before too long , just when I remembered I had only input the postcode and not the house number, I spotted a sign for the Ring Farm on the left and slowed up. Road became single road, tarmac became gravel track, became driveway, became fork, one direction of which lead me to Reception. But I was a little desperate for the loo so I dipped into the facilities prior, only to find a very clean toilet and shower cubicle.
Then I met Moira, with whom I’d spoke on the phone. She checked me in and gave me a quick tour. When I texted her later asking if open fires were allowed as I’d brought my Dad’s old volcano kettle, she said that as long as there were not too many sparks then yes that was fine.
So I went and parked in the far corner of the camping field and put up my old orange 1.5 man tent that I’d gotten in Japan many blood moons ago. I was a little concerned it might rip after so long without use, but to my pleasant surprise, despite the old age and except for being a couple of tent pegs short of a full set, I got it up no problem. Except I realised the entrance was facing the wind. So I unpegged it, spun it 180 degrees and re-attached to the planet surface, so the door was facing away from t'other campers, which also makes sense if you think about it.
Thence I drove into Cupar in search of supermarket to buy provisions and ice, and to give myself bonus points if I found an (working) EV car charger. To my pleasant surprise my Leaf’s sat-nav took me to a retail park to which I had prior been, when I drove up to my ill-starred interview at the new Madras College at St Andrews in June/July 2025. I stocked up on groceries in Tesco (doing my best to ignore the scrupulous glares of suspicious staff members), located a couple of (in use) chargers outside Burger King, hung around suspiciously for a while until an owner came back, plugged in, and went off to Burger King for some well deserved din-dins.
With a full, warm paunch, and my perishables safely in my home-made cool-box under ice, I drove back to the campsite, had a cup of (green - blast!) tea, scoffed some yoghurt, took some photos (happily my camera was fully charged, had an SD card in and was ready to go in the car boot) checked some emails and other messages, cracked open a bottle of Stella and tucked into some Pringles in the tent out of the prevailing wind (Once you pop you can't stop, so they say, so I bought two small packs instead of one big one - ha ha!), while reading ‘Walking on Glass’ by Iain Banks, waiting as patiently as possible for nature to work her magic on my nerves and Mr Banks to get to the crux of his plot.
I succumbed to sleep around 9:30 with the somnambulant sound of raindrops tippy-toe-tapping across the top of the tent. Tomorrow I shall ask who owns the land on which the campsite resides, as surely they must be ... Lord of The Rings.
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