Camping, Pot & Pulp Fiction


I can’t wait to go camping with my brother tonight, when I spend time with my brother , I realise how bloody inpatient and highly strung my own husband is and I am able to breathe and notice that I am my own person and that life is a forceful river and sometimes you have to make yourself just stand up in it and watch the current , without letting it  you pull you along..
Camping is a paradox, on the one hand it is deeply relaxing;   sitting within the woods or a farm , with nothing to do but read , sit  & chat or play a game,  it takes away the stress and eases the pace of life.       Eating simply , not washing , not looking in the mirror , sleeping in your clothes, drinking copious amount of red wine around the fire at night, even coming out of your tent in the dark and pissing on the grass!      There is such freedom and peace to it. Yet it requires dedication , an absence  of obessional tendencies about life in general  &   you have to bring EVERYTHING with you and lets face it , although there is nothing quite like falling asleep in a tent , listening to the patter of a night shower on the canvas, it is downright uncomfortable most of the time.

Yet , every year , I go .. Now it’s down to just my brother and I and our youngest children, our other 2 brothers have given up , my husband is just miserable about the whole idea (good) and our oldest boys now say it’s boring.. I suppose that ‘s kids these days, I mourn their lack of outdoor adventure, its got to have a screen or a raquet to equal enjoyment. But I hope that all their previous camping trips are solidly imprinted within  their memories..  And actually ,  I am looking forward to time with just my brother and I.    When we were younger , we did a lot together,  before we aquired spouses that is.    It mainly constituted of smoking copious amounts of pot and watching Pulp Fiction ,  but still   ,   we had fun.  I miss that.