Ooh, I've been receiving awards and tagged, so exciting!!
Thanks very much to Berthddu Suit and Confused Take That Fan.
I will endeavour to 'do' the tag too...but not today, and bear with me, this is a long one, but the punch line isn't half bad.
We've been camping in Cardiganshire with friends. It was a fantastic break.
Our friends nagged us for most of the week before, phoning at all sorts of times of day and night, dropping 'are we going camping?' into the conversation until we gave in.
The plan was to leave at around 5pm.
Our friends rang to say they were ready...darling husband was farming, so they left and we would follow.
I had:
booked the campsite
washed the children
Made fresh bread
cooked a joint of gammon
had a blowout on the car with 200kilos of pig food on board
had a new tyre fitted
cleaned the kitchen
cleared the fridge
tidied the living room
washed and dried clothes
finished an enormous quote (yeehahaha!!!)
put the pod on the car
packed clothes, towels, knives forks and storm kettle
rediscovered all items for camping and using tesselation skills packed the car to perfection
Darling husband came home, washed and changed and drove us to West Wales.
My friend and I had sat at my computer to find the site they had stayed at before, she knew where she was going and when we got near the coast we met up with her and followed her onto the site, in the dark...we were very glad not to have to try and find it on our own.
We arrived very tired, delighted to be handed a large glass of port and invited to sleep in their tent for the night instead of putting ours up in the dark and the coastal winds.
The morning was beautiful, fresh and sunny and the campsite looked straight over the sea. It was fantastic.
We put our tent up next to our friends.
The farmer arrived.
We had to move our tent.
We went to the beach, us our friends and our five children.
Daughter number three spent the day filling her pockets with sand and rocks, the older two children built a dam and the oldest two children went fishing with a dad. Vampires it seems are a little duff at fishing.
I spent the day perfecting my sunburnt extremities and reading the Saturday Telegraph (what a fab publication it is).
Darling Husband slept on the beach, my friend read the Daily Mail, we were all very happy.
And our time continued in this relaxed manner.
We ate a leisurely brunch on the last morning.
I:
packed the contents of the tent away
Folded all clothes
Flattened airbeds
aired sleeping bags
stuffed sleeping bags in their bags
resorted possessions into theirs and ours
packed the pod with bedding
swept the tent out
took out all the tent pegs
tied up all the strings
took out all the tent poles
folded the tent
packed the tent away
packed the car
Darling Husband poked the fire, then went to settle up with the farmer, along with my friend.
He and my friend returned, a little disgruntled.
"How much did they say it would be on the phone when you booked?" asked my friend
"£15 per tent per night"
"Well they charged us £20 a night!"
I decided to go and see the farmer and his wife, I made the booking, I'd sort it out.
I knocked the door, a female human rabid pitbull chewing a wasp answered the door, and she wasn't terribly friendly and had a slightly very aggressive manner.
"Mrs Davies?" I asked politely.
Pitbull "NO! Where are you from?"
Me "Erm, sorry to bother you, we're camping in that field there, I seem to have made a mistake, I do apologise"
Pitbull "You're with us then!"
Me "Oh, um, well, I'm terribly sorry, I think there's been a misunderstanding somewhere. When I spoke to you on the phone to book with you.."
Pitbull (now getting nasty) "I've never spoken to you on the phone, who are you?"
Me "I'm Mrs Frog, my erm husband was talking to you this morning...um, when I telephoned you said the fee was £15 a night per tent.."
The pitbull stormed into other room shouting "this woman is complaining about our prices!!
The farmer slammed his knife and fork down and marched to the door.
I explained again about the price on the phone and the price we'd just been charged, his wife ranted and raved behind him (I wished he would chain her up).
He said that their prices were clear and justified and in fact should be £23 a night.
Pitbull "I definitely didn't speak to you"
I suddenly had a thought, it all didn't seem right.
Me "What's the name of this farm? I asked.
Farmer answered "Nant-y-Croi"
Me " Oh dear, I'm so, so sorry. I have obviously booked one campsite and come to another, I'm so sorry, there's no problem at all, I'm obviously in the wrong place"
Pitbull and farmer racked up the strop even more, justifying their prices and insisting I hadn't spoken to them.
Me "I think you've completely misunderstood me, I'm apologising for bothering you, obviously I am not in the place I booked us in to, there's no problem at all"
Pitbull stormed off, the farmer said not to worry it happens all the time.
So, it seems we followed our friends into the wrong site and not one of us noticed the huge sign at the gate with the wrong farm name on it.
I just need to call the other site now and apologise for not turning up, they sounded so friendly and nice too....
We saw it on the way home, it looked great..next time.
