A couple of weeks ago we decided to go camping. We’re not brilliant campers – we don’t own fold-out tables or shelves; when it rains we seek refuge in the pub; and in the mornings we’re more keen to find a decent coffee shop than we are to boil...
I snuggled down in my sleeping bag, and wriggled my ten-year-old toes. I was far too excited to sleep, my Dad’s torch flicking signals on the canvas, fearful shadows urging me to stay in the tent. Joanna lay next to me, but she wasn’t asleep either. Both...
Advertising disclosure: this post contains affiliate links. I may receive a small commission if you click them, for which I thank you. All opinions and imagery of West Lexham are my own. Treehouse Life Is there anything more lovely than camping in the...
What happens if you take not two, but four kids camping, on your own? In torrential rain? Four hours from home? This is how I spent the half-term holidays. Actually Daddy has no more holiday left to take from his job, but the offer from Old Bidlake Farm to check out...
Seagulls. What big fat bullies they are! I knew they were cheeky, having frequently been in a near-miss swoop confrontation; I even knew that they were clever enough to flock to tourist traps for easy pickings, having once lost a chip at the beach in St Ives. Put down...
