G is for ... Glamping

Never heard of it? Neither had I until this afternoon. I took the opportunity of Mark being over at a friends house to slip off to Borders with Johnny and pick up the latest Blueprint. And there I discovered it - glamping, or glamorous camping.

Now I may be the last to have heard the term, but I have booked the trip - it started with this innocent little newspaper clipping:

Staying on a working farm - the boys would love it. And then I hit the website and I was sold.

Tents, yes, but with double beds - proper beds people - and wood burning stoves.

I'm liking this idea better and better. Visions of wafting round my wood burning stove, rustling up supper while my children gambol in the fresh air.

So we're going glamping in Wiltshire this summer. And don't be thinking I am some girly wuss who is not acquainted with the inside of a proper tent - I spent a very memorable summer mapping glacial meltwater flow in the wilds of Norway. That glacial meltwater was the closest thing I saw to a shower in 3 weeks - by the end of that, my rucksack was practically walking by itself. Believe me when I tell you, I've done my fair share of tent-time.

So a bit older and a bit wiser now - glamping all the way! (pictures from Featherdown Farms)