Camp Day 2: All day at The Rings

Woke up a lot, tossing and turning throughout the night, thinking the ground was a lot more comfortable in my younger years, yoga mat notwithstanding. Full bladder at 3:30am, but I persevered with sleep and eventually gave in at 6am when my alarm went off. I trotted off to the toilet block at reception and released a torrent of fluid into the toilet bowl the likes of which Niagara Falls would have been envious, just before my bladder exploded. While there I decided I might as well have a shower. 

Great showers! Just a bit leaky on the floor under the shower curtain. Feeling like a new man, I strutted back to my tent, still wearing my old clothes as I had neglected to take a clean set to the loo, the urgency of my nether-regions negating such forward thinking.

It’s funny how crows squawk and then move on. You hear a squawk, look up in the direction of the sound, and find the crow has already travelled several feet before the sound has reached you, making it seem it was emitted from an empty space a large gap behind the bird. Or do crows squawk out their asses? Maybe some of the less intelligent ones are accused of such by their smarter peers. 

Set up the volcano kettle on three monoblocks but was too quick to pick up the camera and snap some pics rather than carefully tending the fire to make sure it was properly going, so it went out and I had to relight it. Second time lucky though and managed to brew myself the best coffee in the world, or so it felt. After a half hearted breakfast of rice crispies and choco flakes still in their packs (a trick my son had taught me as I’d not brought a bowl), a few pancakes and banana, and removing a tiny splinter from my left thumb with the tweezers in long-lost Swiss army knife (that I’d eventually and joyously found down the side of my black recliner armchair a few weeks ago while searching for my iphone) I was ready to think about the day. 

It being my first morning and still feeling tender, I didn’t feel the need to rush off to a new campsite just yet. I decided instead to explore the area on foot for myself, rather than take Moira’s advice and check the brand new website. So I set off with my camera and decided to either turn left at every junction until I was back where I started, or failing that, turn round and come back after half an hour, or failing that, when I was tired. 

The short walk along the single lane road yielded another of Ring Farm’s cottages with lawn on the rooves, pleasing views of cows, ponies, a view or two across the valley, some bees on flowers, a handful (what’s the group noun? Bacon butty?) of chirpy builders (also on rooves), a waving van driver and a holistic massage centre. And only one piece of rubbish: an empty one litre plastic milk bottle, which after thinking twice about it, I picked up and brought back for recycling.

After that I think I had a nice lie down in my tent, a tasty cup of tea, an early lunch of my Stephen’s Chicken mayo sarnie of the day prior, more photos and lots of looking out over the grounded blue boat and stranded, nettle-covered farm machinery to the rolling, bushel-filled hedgerows and green and yellow fields to the horizon. 

A few campers packed up and left since then; a few have stayed. My imagination is still running amok with Apex flashbacks and visions of Det. Chief Sup. Int Foyle of Foyle’s War, both on which I obviously over-indulged on Tuesday night while waiting sleepily to pick up my son from his friend’s party. Realised I could charge my Iphone off my macbook off my Ctechi battery which I’d charged from the car lighter battery on my way here. For some reason the Iphone did not like charging directly off the Ctechi battery, but there you are, problem solved.

The main building at Ring’s Farm has a massive play room with pool, air hockey, scooters, a piano, books, DVDs and even a guitar amp or two (but no guitar). There is a communal fridge with tea and coffee galore, which made me happy as Larry as I could dig into their brown tea bags. It prides itself on a very accessible camping and glamping venue as everything is easy to get to and on one floor. And that bring us up to the present moment. It’s now 12:19pm and I’m considering more lunch.

I hadn’t booked in for two nights at the Rings. To be honest, I was just taking each day at a time, and Moira seemed happy with that. The field was massive and the grass:guest ratio must have been 20:1. 

Even though it was yesterday it’s already become a blur. I know I’ve already written about the morning, apart from my fixing one of the handles on my other cloth Morrisons shopping bag which Cocoa chewed through in her younger years. I sewed it with white thread using back stitch which my mate John assured me (and he’s done a fair bit of sewing in his time) that it was stronger and better and looked nicer than the kind of (I don’t know the terminology) Nessie monster stitch that I usually favour. I made one of those criss cross boxes you sometimes see when things are attached to other things with thread. So far so good, except I ran out before I could properly tie it off, as the last bit of thread was only a millimetre longer than the length of the needle. So I sort of tied it to the start of the thread and hoped for the best. But now this handle’s shorter than the other one. So should I cut and resew the other one? Or get my dog to chew through it for me. We’ll see.

What else happened? Well, I did some writing, I looked at the fields (a lot), I took a nap, almost getting boiled alive when the sun suddenly came out for five minutes right above me and cooked my tent. I gasped awake and had to open the vent ASAP as I was fully clothed. It’s been cold, overcast and windy the whole time I’ve been here apart from that moment. Fortunately I could use my car with the hatchback open to shelter me from the wind and drizzle as I sat ruminating the horizon. But the sun was a surprise.

Maybe I began uploading to the blog. I had lunch which consisted of (pre-sliced bagels- genius!) with slices of pre-sliced ham and pre sliced cheese, topped off with a squirt each of pre-sliced mayonnaise, some more yoghurt, an apple and banana followed by copious amounts of tea courtesy of the kettle in the very well-stocked communal kitchen.

I plucked halfheartedly at my guitar. I looked at the fields stretching off to the horizon (which wasn’t that far away). I locked gaze with the alpacas/llamas, trying and failing to determine the difference, in the end deciding, if someone put a gun to my head, that they were young llama-alpaca hybrids, not yet fully grown, but with banana ears and a horse-like nose, but also patch of hair atop head. They seemed chilled and didn’t spit at me once. Although one of them looked at me sideways. (What would you call a cappuccino made from Alpaca milk? - Insert pic of Al Pacino here)

I then turned my attention to the pony that was now approaching my tent and chewing the grass around my car.

Did you know that most pilots who sit the test to become a Red Arrow pass with flying colours?*

Anyway, I do recall slipping into my shorts and going for a run, which due to a sore knee grew into a 5k walk-run, which Strava congratulated me for by saying it was my fastest 5k ever. I tell you, the best way to find out about the environs of a campsite is to go out the main gate one day and walk left, then the next day go out the main gate and turn right.

When I got back I had some microwoven soup and a bagel in the communal kitchen next to a quiet old salt of the earth guy who seemed like he'd spent his whole life outdoors and only came in for sleep. I thought maybe he was Lord of The Rings, but he turned out to be another guest  - the owner of the pony. I'd attempted to heat up my soup at my tent, but it turned out the push and click CampingGaz cannister I'd purchased was not compatible with my screw on mini-stove.

I then began to wind down for the night. I was tempted to have my second bottle of beer but resisted, having some more green tea instead. The pony kept me company on the other side of the fence, hiding slightly behind the abandoned farming machinery. It looked like it was also preparing to spend the night sleeping standing up.

Sober, I couldn't sleep, nor get comfortable. There was a bug in my tent which wasn't threatening or annoying enough to merit me getting up and ejecting it and I figured I'd swallowed bigger insects, so I just ignored it. But I was cold, and the floor, despite my mat, was hard and bumpy. All I could do was wait. There weren't even any soporific rain drops to help carry me off or inspire me to alliterate.