I love camping. How being outdoors me and I notice the changes in temperature,the fresh air in my nose and lungs. How long and happy the days are. How close to the ground I get to be. That reaching for my keys as I'm heading back to the tent then the joyful realisation that I don't need to unlock anything, I've left my possessions trustingly.
I'm less keen on the coming home, the endless washing, the trying to dry out vast swathes of dripping tent material by draping it over the banisters.
Maybe I should sleep with the window open tonight, to extend the feeling? Only the dog barks at every passing leaf and I could do with a good night's sleep...
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