Camping... its not all pink tents and limp wrists.
Hello all
Been a while since i actually wrote anything of any substance on here. Mostly pix and art huh? Well we just finished a Bank Holiday Long weekend! Or a long weekend for anyone who isnt in the UK. Since everything in the country shuts down or keeps unpredictable hours on such weekends there is nothing for it but to either leave the country or pitch tent in a field and hope it doest blow away.
We are poor so we voted for the pitch a tent idea. We wandered with the aide of B3n, his girlfriend, Escan and his car up to North Devon near Bideford and pitched tent... at 10pm. So yes it was dark. The mere fact that i had only put this particular tent up once before and then with a sargeant major uberanal rententive woman telling me exactly what not to do and when. So we were a tad confused with the tent. It didnt help that the wind was really starting to pick up. One more thing about the tent. It was huge. sleeps 57 or something. ok actually it sleeps 8 or 12 or something. Its more like 3 tents fused together in a nasty siamese tangle of canvas and spiderleg support poles. For all its girth/size it still managed to go up ok. 43 guyropes later.
So after the obligatory half dozen beers and shuffle around the fire so as to avoid the eye searing campsmoke we decided to hit the sack. Around this time it was 1:30am-ish. Not bad. I was happily fuzzy. Q-tip was trollied. She started on the wine on the way UP to the campsite... in fact i think she and Escan started before we finished packing the car. B3n and I attempted to remain the sober smart ones. That didnt last. Right... the wind. Ok around about this time the wind decided to pick up and make Michael Fish start to sweat(r). Gale force baby! Sleep was constantly blown away with the snapping whipping and general nylon mayhem bashing about our heads. Around 3am our friends tent managed to actually succeed in its bid for freedom, shedding its skeleton only to be foiled by guyropes and collapse in a vaccuum pack way upon its inhabitants. Upon extricating themselves they swore profusely, shook fists at the wind and Poseidon (we were on the coast after all) before retiring to their car and sleeping the sleep of the fucking lucky bastards.
5am rolls around. By this time myself and Qtip are hella tired, hella grumpy and hella sleepless. The wind wasnt a steady wind but a teasing blustery, then nothing wind. Tempting you with silence then blasting your betawaves into oblivion at just the point you were seeing naked girlies and teddiebears cavorting in dreamland. So slightly annoying for myself to say the least. The sun then came up. At this point Qtip and i ceded defeat and decided to find a shower. Now keep in mind we arrived well after dark and this campsite was sprawling over 2 fields and had high viewblocking hedgerows of doom. (dont get me started on hedgerows.. thats a different rant ALLTOGETHER!!!) Qtip and I unwittingly embarked upon the Quest for Hygiene! We journied to and fro hither and thither near and far in search of flowing water of any description. Cow sheds and mysterious building containing farm implements that begged tetanus shots, all inspected and carefully maneuvered around. Soon we came upon the fabled caravan graveyard. Not to be confused with the elephants graveyard. These caravans were in various stages of decay and sunbleachedness. Some refused stalwartly to embrace the death of the mobile habitation and held faded yellowed signs in their milky plexi windows offering their sale. Yellowed crystalized sticky tape long since crumbled and that faded magic marker look only making them look like a particularly poorly dressed corpse fresh from the morgue which recently hired a beauty school dropout.
This strange scene was made all the stranger as the wind couldnt penetrate the weed covered cracked courtyard. A strange stillness seemed to be waiting for vinyl siding to split and drop. As i stared at the sad demeanor of sagging caravans and cracked sunwarped tires Q-tip let out a choked squeal of what I correctly assumed to be glee. The shower. A nondecript outbuilding unmarked and unloved proved to be the elusive chapel to cleanliness. And believe it or not it had an electric shower of decent quality! AND the added bonus of the largest woodlouse i have ever seen. You could easily play golf with it if it could still roll its girth into a ball.
Clothes shed and water steaming we payed obiesence to the god of warmth and cleansing purity. It was only after i stepped out of the shower stall that i looked up and saw Sheilob. The monster spider was sitting in its lair visibly sagging the webbing under its weight. It was hungrily staring at me with its 8 shining eyes. Yes they were frigging shining. There were so friggin big they caught the light from the window. Its mandible thingies were moving up and down like it was chewing something/one it had recently caught. Sure mebbe I am being melodramatic here but this spider was freaking huge. Biggest one ive seen yet of the domestic variety. Tarantulas dont count. I ducked my head and dressed quickly warning Q-tip of her near brush with death. Q-tips hair is a spider luxury apartment dreamhome. We quickly fled the lair of sheilob and retreated to our sagging windblown tent of stoopid. I crawled back into the sleeping bag and prayed for sleep while Qtip started a new quest for fire for her coffee. 4 hours later everyone sort of got up and started pretending we were sentient. Qtip still hadnt found fire. And Qtip with no sleep and no coffee is scarier than sheilob. B3n saved us all with a lighter from the locked car. the locked car i dreamed was unlocked so i could sleep in it in peace and quiet... all night. Not long after coffee Qtip and escan decided to start the revolution of 'girls think camping sux alot and want to go home'. Basically it was a peaceful revolution consisting of a lot of snide comments, sarcasm, minor bitchiness, and attempts at Grand Theft Auto (the crime not the game). They won. I was secretly supplying them weapons like the states and the pakistanis as i longed for my bed and paintbrushes. But on the surface i supported B3n as hes my mate and I wouldnt do anyting to undermine his determination to enjoy himself at all costs even if it might mean a homicidal rage and decapitations. I love b3n.
We packed the tent in record time even with the gale force winds. And proceded to wander around north devon in remarkable display of indecision. Or so it seemed. I didnt mind so much as i managed to doze most of time contented in the front seat of the Beemer. We did stop off in a Chavtown and made fun of the locals. Dont worry we used big words so they couldnt understand.
We got back midafternoon i think. We made BBQ and drank vodka and gin for the rest of the day. I think i recall some Xbox. Ignoring the girls was high on the agenda. Qtip and I went to bed and slept the sleep of the dead. Even more than dead... undead even! without the decay and brain cravings.
The rest of the weekend had glorious weather. Of course. Posiedon is a bastard. Qtip and I managed another bbq and more drink and some movie watching. I didnt really get a lot of painting done though. I wont have my Kroot army ready for the tournament as i reckon i have 30+ kroot to paint and around a dozen to convert. So ill just play a tau/kroot force.
I think ill leave off this post now. My fingers are tired and i have a tuba to find a home for. See ya!!
p
post script.
We borrowed a campstove for the coffee. A butane powered one. Yesterday we returned it to its rightful owners. turns out you dont need a lighter to light it. It does that for ya. HAHAHAHAH 4 HOURS of looking for fire quest for Qtips coffee was UNNECESSARY!!! HAHAHAH! It clicks to firey life all by itself!! HAHAHAHA silly girl. She was even given a demo of how it works before we left. hahahahaahah... whats that you say? why didnt i help her on her firequest? i was sleeping. go away.
Been a while since i actually wrote anything of any substance on here. Mostly pix and art huh? Well we just finished a Bank Holiday Long weekend! Or a long weekend for anyone who isnt in the UK. Since everything in the country shuts down or keeps unpredictable hours on such weekends there is nothing for it but to either leave the country or pitch tent in a field and hope it doest blow away.
We are poor so we voted for the pitch a tent idea. We wandered with the aide of B3n, his girlfriend, Escan and his car up to North Devon near Bideford and pitched tent... at 10pm. So yes it was dark. The mere fact that i had only put this particular tent up once before and then with a sargeant major uberanal rententive woman telling me exactly what not to do and when. So we were a tad confused with the tent. It didnt help that the wind was really starting to pick up. One more thing about the tent. It was huge. sleeps 57 or something. ok actually it sleeps 8 or 12 or something. Its more like 3 tents fused together in a nasty siamese tangle of canvas and spiderleg support poles. For all its girth/size it still managed to go up ok. 43 guyropes later.
So after the obligatory half dozen beers and shuffle around the fire so as to avoid the eye searing campsmoke we decided to hit the sack. Around this time it was 1:30am-ish. Not bad. I was happily fuzzy. Q-tip was trollied. She started on the wine on the way UP to the campsite... in fact i think she and Escan started before we finished packing the car. B3n and I attempted to remain the sober smart ones. That didnt last. Right... the wind. Ok around about this time the wind decided to pick up and make Michael Fish start to sweat(r). Gale force baby! Sleep was constantly blown away with the snapping whipping and general nylon mayhem bashing about our heads. Around 3am our friends tent managed to actually succeed in its bid for freedom, shedding its skeleton only to be foiled by guyropes and collapse in a vaccuum pack way upon its inhabitants. Upon extricating themselves they swore profusely, shook fists at the wind and Poseidon (we were on the coast after all) before retiring to their car and sleeping the sleep of the fucking lucky bastards.
5am rolls around. By this time myself and Qtip are hella tired, hella grumpy and hella sleepless. The wind wasnt a steady wind but a teasing blustery, then nothing wind. Tempting you with silence then blasting your betawaves into oblivion at just the point you were seeing naked girlies and teddiebears cavorting in dreamland. So slightly annoying for myself to say the least. The sun then came up. At this point Qtip and i ceded defeat and decided to find a shower. Now keep in mind we arrived well after dark and this campsite was sprawling over 2 fields and had high viewblocking hedgerows of doom. (dont get me started on hedgerows.. thats a different rant ALLTOGETHER!!!) Qtip and I unwittingly embarked upon the Quest for Hygiene! We journied to and fro hither and thither near and far in search of flowing water of any description. Cow sheds and mysterious building containing farm implements that begged tetanus shots, all inspected and carefully maneuvered around. Soon we came upon the fabled caravan graveyard. Not to be confused with the elephants graveyard. These caravans were in various stages of decay and sunbleachedness. Some refused stalwartly to embrace the death of the mobile habitation and held faded yellowed signs in their milky plexi windows offering their sale. Yellowed crystalized sticky tape long since crumbled and that faded magic marker look only making them look like a particularly poorly dressed corpse fresh from the morgue which recently hired a beauty school dropout.
This strange scene was made all the stranger as the wind couldnt penetrate the weed covered cracked courtyard. A strange stillness seemed to be waiting for vinyl siding to split and drop. As i stared at the sad demeanor of sagging caravans and cracked sunwarped tires Q-tip let out a choked squeal of what I correctly assumed to be glee. The shower. A nondecript outbuilding unmarked and unloved proved to be the elusive chapel to cleanliness. And believe it or not it had an electric shower of decent quality! AND the added bonus of the largest woodlouse i have ever seen. You could easily play golf with it if it could still roll its girth into a ball.
Clothes shed and water steaming we payed obiesence to the god of warmth and cleansing purity. It was only after i stepped out of the shower stall that i looked up and saw Sheilob. The monster spider was sitting in its lair visibly sagging the webbing under its weight. It was hungrily staring at me with its 8 shining eyes. Yes they were frigging shining. There were so friggin big they caught the light from the window. Its mandible thingies were moving up and down like it was chewing something/one it had recently caught. Sure mebbe I am being melodramatic here but this spider was freaking huge. Biggest one ive seen yet of the domestic variety. Tarantulas dont count. I ducked my head and dressed quickly warning Q-tip of her near brush with death. Q-tips hair is a spider luxury apartment dreamhome. We quickly fled the lair of sheilob and retreated to our sagging windblown tent of stoopid. I crawled back into the sleeping bag and prayed for sleep while Qtip started a new quest for fire for her coffee. 4 hours later everyone sort of got up and started pretending we were sentient. Qtip still hadnt found fire. And Qtip with no sleep and no coffee is scarier than sheilob. B3n saved us all with a lighter from the locked car. the locked car i dreamed was unlocked so i could sleep in it in peace and quiet... all night. Not long after coffee Qtip and escan decided to start the revolution of 'girls think camping sux alot and want to go home'. Basically it was a peaceful revolution consisting of a lot of snide comments, sarcasm, minor bitchiness, and attempts at Grand Theft Auto (the crime not the game). They won. I was secretly supplying them weapons like the states and the pakistanis as i longed for my bed and paintbrushes. But on the surface i supported B3n as hes my mate and I wouldnt do anyting to undermine his determination to enjoy himself at all costs even if it might mean a homicidal rage and decapitations. I love b3n.
We packed the tent in record time even with the gale force winds. And proceded to wander around north devon in remarkable display of indecision. Or so it seemed. I didnt mind so much as i managed to doze most of time contented in the front seat of the Beemer. We did stop off in a Chavtown and made fun of the locals. Dont worry we used big words so they couldnt understand.
We got back midafternoon i think. We made BBQ and drank vodka and gin for the rest of the day. I think i recall some Xbox. Ignoring the girls was high on the agenda. Qtip and I went to bed and slept the sleep of the dead. Even more than dead... undead even! without the decay and brain cravings.
The rest of the weekend had glorious weather. Of course. Posiedon is a bastard. Qtip and I managed another bbq and more drink and some movie watching. I didnt really get a lot of painting done though. I wont have my Kroot army ready for the tournament as i reckon i have 30+ kroot to paint and around a dozen to convert. So ill just play a tau/kroot force.
I think ill leave off this post now. My fingers are tired and i have a tuba to find a home for. See ya!!
p
post script.
We borrowed a campstove for the coffee. A butane powered one. Yesterday we returned it to its rightful owners. turns out you dont need a lighter to light it. It does that for ya. HAHAHAHAH 4 HOURS of looking for fire quest for Qtips coffee was UNNECESSARY!!! HAHAHAH! It clicks to firey life all by itself!! HAHAHAHA silly girl. She was even given a demo of how it works before we left. hahahahaahah... whats that you say? why didnt i help her on her firequest? i was sleeping. go away.
posted by Marcus Dunning at 11:19 am
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