This weekend has been more autumnal than summery, but that didn't stop us having another lovely camping trip. This time we ventured to a village called Stanwell Moor, very near to Heathrow airport - and less than a mile's walk from where Andy stays during the week. This is proper wild camping - no facilities, no loos, etc. So it's a fifteen minute walk for me if I need to go and use some "facilities" - unless I'm feeling quite brave and dash into the bushes. Too many anglers about this weekend though for that sort of malarkey!
I haven't set foot outside the tent very much to be truthful as it's been very cold - but lovely and toasty and cosy in the bivvy. As long as I have the things around me that I need, I'm very happy. A warm fleece, some magazines, some wool and needles, plenty of tea and coffee, Finn laying on my feet. I love it.
Perversely, I usually always sit outside the tent in the evenings, the coldest part of the day. The light isn't so good for knitting or crochet or reading, and Andy's generally cooking - barbecues are "man's work" apparently - so that's our time for sitting outside the tent, chatting, drinking wine and laughing together.
Andy did manage to catch a couple of pike this weekend - maybe about three or four pounds each - and, at one point, he started to use a new technique I've never seen before ..... calling the fish to him. "Come on fish, come to yer Dad." I only hope the fishies understand Northern!
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