Totem Pole

Over the weekend, we went camping at Abbey Home Farm in Wiltshire. On arrival, the field was empty apart from a Dutch family with a large orange tent, nestled into the hedge. We chose a spot near the totem pole, not too far from the tap, at the edge of a field of oats. We had a view right across a valley of arable farmland.

We pitched our tent a little more efficiently than last time, while Bernard lay pathetically on a blanket feeling sorry for himself. The poor mite had some sort of stomach bug, which fortunately I didn’t catch until after we got home. We figured we may as well sit in a sunny field with a whiney child, as sit at home with one.

And it was particularly sunny. The basic facilities did not include an ice-pack freezing service, so the small quantity of food we brought in the coolbag was in great peril and had to be shifted constantly into ever-decreasing patches of shade. What the basic facilities did include was: one tap, two composting toilets for men and two for women, and two pump-your-own-water showers. A composting toilet, in case you didn’t know, is a hut built above a pit of poo.

These were sited just inside an ancient oak wood, through which there was a shady pathway that led to the shop and cafe, where they served delicious lattes (almost as good as Pete’s), and interesting salads. (Quinoa and strawberries, for example). We hired a brazier and bought a box of logs (but were forbidden from raiding the wood for kindling, lest we slaughter the insects who make their home in bits of dead tree).

They had no sausages, so we went into Cirencester where we found a traditional butcher (and a yarn shop!). Cirencester is very pretty, and would be nice to explore without a whiney child in tow. The high street was very non-generic; and as I said, a traditional butcher! You don’t get those around these parts.

Back at the campsite, several more tents had arrived, and all seemed to agree that our corner was the most attractive in the large empty field. It’s a very popular place for families, and those campers without children had wisely pitched at the far distant end of the field. There was a group of four or five families with countless children right behind us, and more arriving before our very eyes.

Pete fiddled with our stove and I failed to light a fire in the brazier. We ate sausages. Bernard was ill so I put him to bed and we sat outside until dusk, listening to the screeches of little girls and crows.

In the morning the farmer took us to see chickens and pigs, and showed us some big trees. We also spotted a stoat running after some rabbits. We went into Cirencester again, and then spent the rest of the day lounging around on the grass trying to persuade the whiney child to go and play with some of the non-whiney children. He was quite happy to ask other parents to play with him, but had no interest at all in the children.

Our fire that night was more successful, and we toasted marshmallows late into the evening. Despite Bernard being unwell, we considered our small adventure to have been a pleasant one. He seems to like camping; at least, he said he didn’t want to come home, and is looking forward to our next trip at the beginning of August.

And that’s the totem pole up there in the corner; Pete fancied a change.