Gone camping

I am a fairweather camper. When the sun's out, as it was for the whole of our stay, the tent is dry, the nights are clear and starry, and there are solar powered hot showers not so far away, I'm in love with the idea of life outdoors. The mornings and evenings are my favourite. There is something special about those times; early morning dew and sea mist creeping sleepily around the bottoms of tents, taking in lungfuls of clear air as soon as you wake, the smell of the first bacon rasher frying. Then in the evening, as the sunlight fades, it's replaced by little campfires watched wide-eyed by small children, the lighting of lanterns and candles marking out pitches, stars - so many - and the moon.

The campsite we stayed on was part of a working farm on the coast of Dorset. Being surrounded by the sea and the countryside was lovely. We clambered down to the private beach, sampled rolls, pastries and flapjacks from the onsite bakery, drank local beer and ate the best pizza ever, made in front of our eyes in a pizza van with a traditional stone oven. Watched children having the time of their lives playing on hay bales. We cooked pasta and bacon, drank hot chocolate as night fell, played endless rounds of cards. Our waking and sleeping patterns started to follow those of the sun. And round every corner were mischevious, funny farm animals to interact with. Newborn puppies with milky eyes. A grumpy pig who needed braces. Three proud roosters. Goats playing hide and seek around the farm buildings.

The best things I found about camping were the constant supply of fresh air, feeling so much better for the earlier bedtimes and mornings, and the complete change of routine. Change is invigorating and sometimes you forget how much you need it.