Carry on Camping

The day dawned misty, and since breakfast wasn't served before nine, we were up, showered, dressed and out just as soon as the cleaner had unlocked the front door. A field of tents looks deceptively attractive in the early morning light but I remain unfooled. A feeling reinforced by Annie's later report that she'd spent a very uncomfortable night, having forgotten to bring all her bedding supplies, and was *definitely* planning a trip to Buxton later that morning to stock up on pillows, a duvet and possibly even a hot water bottle.

After wading through the first of Graham's enormous breakfasts (I think he may have invented the phrase "full" English) we set off for Poole's Cavern. An attractive underground jaunt for the totally unfit, as it involves only 26 steps to reach the furthest navigable point which ends up being 30 metres underground. Educational too, as our guide pointed out several broken stalactites. Apparently the Victorians thought they'd be able to sell the sparkling stalactites, and threw rocks at them until they broke off. Once the rocks were brought out into daylight, where they looked just like... er... white rocks, the cavers realised they were worthless and threw them away. Who knew the Victorians were such vandals?

After that we wandered into Buxton hoping to visit the antiques fair, but as they were expecting a £5 entry fee - each! - we skipped that and wandered aimlessly around the shops for a bit, dodging the rain. We bumped into a small party of campers in town and stuck with them for half-an-hour or so, until we heard the call of the coffee and ducked into a café for a drink and a sticky bun.

The weather brightened up slightly after lunch so, having "done" Buxton we headed off to one of Nikki's favourite villages - Ashford in the Water - and spent some time watching the ducks on, and the trout in, The Water (the River Wye). Around 3pm we decided it would be a good idea to return to the campsite and see if anyone else had arrived. Sure enough, Jamie & Lise had pitched up - literally - and with crystal blue skies and fluffy white clouds overhead, we relaxed in the field in a small enclave of camping chairs and enjoyed a swift bevvy.

It was not to last.

A rather angry, low-flying, brown cloud approached rapidly from the West forcing us to seek refuge in Andy & Lara's canvas mansion. Which is where we remained, all conversation drowned by the spatter of rain on the polythene windows, until the rest of the group returned from Buxton. The rain passed over just long enough for four of us to assemble Annie's new portable barbecue (Focus DIY; £39.99) and once the charcoal was fired up, Nikki and I took the opportunity to return pubwards and sample another of Graham's delicious evening meals.

As we were awaiting the serving wench, the sound of hail hitting the pub windows once again briefly drowned conversation in the bar. And then, as if by magic, most of the campers ran in, trying to escape not only the hail but the flying hot charcoal released from the barbecues as they had blown over. Yes, for the second year running the Birthday Barbecue was wrecked by the weather. Better planning called for next year, we all agreed.