Monday 8 September 2014

#One Week - Summer '14 - Outdoors.


One lone portaloo. Bright blue among nature's greenest. The only amenity in a field of rough, overgrown grass and dense nettles; tall thickets that sprang with the sudden jolt of whooshing geysers. And the loo was barely a beacon of hygiene; an anti-tardis of function, an-almost-merger of sink and lavatory, and a roll with the thinnest stretch of muddied paper. I began to cry. I want to go home. I don't like this. T'was also a certain time of the month. Not the ideal context for a night in rural Buckinghamshire. We need to do this, Younger Dad urged, this is the tent test for two weeks time. Oh God.

In the adjacent field was a cricket pitch with a small white pavilion on the farthest side, and tucked behind the ageing shack was an ever-so-slightly-more-refined toilet. The paper was damp. A tap didn't work. The mirror was cracked and broken. And curiously, a neon pink loom band lay unused and forgotten under the browning sink on the broken tiles of the floor. I closed my eyes, brushed my teeth, determinedly focused on the sweet, sweet aroma of falling dew beyond the gaps in the flaking door. I am fine. I can do this. It'll be fun!  

The fire wood was too damp. All smoke, no flame. So Younger Dad gave up fanning the tentative sparks, and the bag of marshmallows remained unopened. She was too excited to sleep. She clutched my hand at every strange nocturnal sound. A bat's high-pitched cry. Wind rasping through the branches. A fire works display beyond the hills in Henley. Boom. Boom. Boom. But as it went, I slept so soundly and when I took those first fresh breaths the following morning I decided that camping wasn't so bad after all.

...and fourteen days later we arrived at the festival. I wrapped bunting around the tent, hung solar lanterns above the entrance; a canny reference point for our temporary home. Around us there were bell tents and tee pees and palatial domes and flags and fairy lights and children tearing around in face paint, chasing the tails of escaping balloons and the path of tipsy butterflies. And in the family field where we'd pitched, to my delight, a yoga tent, and, and... flushing toilets and hot comforting showers (even though the queue was longer than a blue whale). The air smelt good and clean and delicious, of bubbles popping and BBQ's sizzling.


Over those three days of music, literature and laughter something reawakened. Was it the sunshine on my brow or the way it warmed the nape of my neck - the touch of a small downy feather - as an author read from her novel? Was it the tug of war of bass, my auditory canals spoilt for choice - which stage was it going to be? Daryl Hall singing I can't go for that... (the saxophone solo that felt like rippling silk, and tasted of butter-soaked crumpets and melted chocolate)? Trying to decipher the words of Kate Tempest, so in awe of her boundless spirit and passion? Was it watching my girl fly down the helta-skelter, her face lighting up at The Cat in The Hat, the way she created a fairy wand from stickers, twisting and moulding it until she found the correct shape? Or how the wind whipped up before the storm? The lightning colouring the sky in flashes of burnt orange and the deepest purple, the rain beating heavy rhythms on the nylon canvas and bouncing off the grass? Or was it the simple observation that at a festival the English stop being so very English; no one minds the changeable weather or claggy mud - we stop frowning, and finally start smiling....

.... it was all of the above, all rolled into one sweet wrapper of experience. I laughed over my hysteria with the lone portaloo, realising how easy it all was, and how enjoyable; why had I flustered so much? I'd caught a sense of wonder and adventure I'd not experienced since before Little had arrived, when I'd cycled everywhere and spun records at parties in the mountainous foothills of southern France. Life. This was what it was all about. Spontaneity. Creativity. Freedom. The big, big outdoors.... the stuff of childhood I want her to remember, to always be enchanted by....

This is the first day of my One Week series. Due to the amount of work involved, I've decided not to run this series as a linky anymore, but please feel free to join in if you want to...




24 comments:

  1. Beautiful. And funny! Sounds like life lessons and bliss. The words 'childhood' and 'enchantment' should always go together. xx

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    1. Thank you! We had a great time at the festival. I think we are going to make it a yearly thing now! X

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  2. Lovely stuff! Love the colours in the pix as well. Hope all is good with you in general, see you on Twitter x

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    1. Oh hello you! Long time no see? I hope you had a good summer. Yes, all good with me, and see you on Twitter too! X

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  3. I've always been a bit scared of the idea of festivals with kids, but your description makes them sound tempting...freedom rather than the restrictions of parenting, sounds perfect! I love the detail of the loom band, btw...

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    1. I was a bit scared too but now Little A is four we decided to brave it. And I'm glad we did. The Latitude Festival is very family friendly with a wonderful children's arena.... I couldn't believe I found a loom band on the floor the cricket pavilion loo!

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  4. Oh, I so want to be really, really cool and really, really relaxed and be a totally awesome festival-type mum. Truth is, I don't think I could cut it. It's just not me. I think you are extremely brave.

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    1. Honestly, I didn't think I'd have the gumption to do it (it'd been a decade since my last festival) but it was so family friendly with dedicated family camping and children's arena, so you couldn't go wrong. And the weather held out during the day.

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  5. I'm with you, I'm a fan of tents as long as there's comfortable nearby toilets and showers. I don't think I'll ever get the OH to go though, so it might be me and a friend taking the kids.

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    1. Yes! I do like my facilities, preferably ones that flush well. Why wouldn't your OH go? Does he not like the possibility of rain and mud? Mind you, neither do I :o)...

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  6. I'e not dared do something like this with Little Z yet but you are right in creating some wonderful memories. It looks so good and she looks completely focused on whatever is going on up there. So good to have you back, I've missed your writing. Hope you had a lovely summer.

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    1. Hello! So as she's four now, we decided to give it a go this year and we all had a great time. There was a wonderful children's arena - it was very family friendly. In the photo she's watching Bombay Bicycle Club with Daddy. Summer was grand, I hope you had a good one too!

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  7. As soon as I saw the coloured sheep I knew where it was! I'm so glad that you enjoyed it, all of you. I wish I could write about things as you do, such a talent x

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    1. Latitude rocks! We're so going back there again next year, and probably Bestival too hopefully. We had such a good time. And thank you, I'm rather in awe of your blog at the moment - it's fab! X

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  8. I'm so glad that this story had a happy ending and that you enjoyed the festival - it looks fab! The sort of thing I'd love to do with mine but would be worried about losing them. Lovely to read you again. xx

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    1. We had a great time! There was so much to do for the whole family.... you'd love it. Thank you my dear blogging friend. X

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  9. It's funny isn't it? We camp, we use the communal bathrooms and it doesn't bother me ... that much ... well maybe that's a lie and it does bother me.
    So glad you all had fun and discovered a new experience

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    1. We all had a great experience and they'll be plenty more camping next year, and festivals! (and I don't mind the communal bathrooms now!).

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  10. Nope, sorry, your post is beautifully written as always and amusing, but I still do not want to go camping! ;)
    Glad you had a great time and I love those coloured sheep. xx

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    1. You mean I can't persuade you ;o).... I was rather nervous at first (can't you tell) but loved it in the end. Being at a festival made a big difference! The sheep rock don't they? X

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  11. Magical! Even with the wobbly start! So glad you had fun and properly soaked it all in - not always as easy as it sounds! Lovely, lovely to catch up with you again xx

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    1. Lovely, lovely to catch up with you too! Yes, it was a wobbly start but the festival was brilliant and we all had such a good time! X

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  12. You survived! So glad you so thoroughly enjoyed yourself - and Little A too :) X

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    1. It was brilliant (in the end) and Little A had such a magical time :o) X

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