h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

This was the plan:

Me, the missus and the nippers would chuck the tent in the back of the car, pop on to Dartmoor, pitch up slap bang in the middle of nowhere and watch some meteors.


This was the reality:

Chucked the tent in. Thought we should also bring the stove, and some cups, and tea bags, and milk and cereal for the morning, oh and bowls, and a pack of cards, and the poker chips, and the green baize mat thing, and the fold-up table, and the fold-up chairs, and some washing stuff, and a change of clothes. Oh, and the dog.

Ought to bring the camera too. And have a quick look on the web for tips on photographing meteors. And bring the tripod, and a spare battery.

Chucked all of that in. (Crammed it in, more like).

Decided against Meldon (10 mins drive) for Princetown (45 mins drive) where we could get a decent evening meal and breakfast. Kept the cereal bowls packed, just in case.

Started out on our 45 min drive, but stopped off at every petrol station and camp site on the way to attempt to purchase gas canister for stove. No luck. Arrived at Plume of Feathers almost 2 hours later.

Pitched tent. Decided to go for pub meal. Just then a coachload of grannies was dropped off. Grannies got to all the tables first. It was standing room only. Went back, got in car, drove up to Postbridge, then down to Ashburton, then down the A38 to Plymouth where we ended up in a Mexican restaurant we know in the Barbican.

Arrived back at Princetown around 10:30pm. Were shocked to find that the nearby North Hessary tv mast was giving off huge amounts of light pollution, all being reflected off some very low cloud/fog.

Got back to the tent. It started to rain. Decided just to bed down, and maybe wake up in a few hours and check to see if fog and cloud had cleared.

Then Wayne and Waynetta Slob arrived back at their tent next to ours. They proceeded to spend most of the night f-ing and blinding, spilling beer on their tent, setting it alight with their fags, arguing over whether Wayne would empty his bladder _inside_ the tent or not, and then falling asleep and snoring like troopers.

It kept raining. All night.

Woke up (after not really sleeping) cold and uncomfortable at 7am. Thick fog outside. Packed up all of the stuff we hadn't used. Didn't bother washing. Didn't bother with breakfast at the Plume.

Drove home. Had breakfast. Went to bed.

Paff

Home sweet home.
I bet you never leave again...

I've had trips like that. My recent trip to Staffordshire ended with us coming home the same day. Oh, and J lost his keys while we were there.

The worrying thing is that those 18 hours were the highlight of our two week summer holiday.

Still, home sweet home, where the beds are comfortable, the kitchen is stocked up, and the neighbours don't set fire to themselves each night.