The World getting to me I gathered by beloved family and dragged them away from it all.
Spontaneous as one can get when requiring some level of decent accommodation to sleep and shower in, of course.
I’m sure camping requires some level of organising and planning and blah, too. And although the idea of being out and surrounded by nature, with no electricity or, dare I do it, wifi, for a few days did appeal to me, well … the idea of camping just doesn’t appeal to me at all.
It’s all wonderful in theory. The reality, well, cold and hard ground and no sleep due to increased risk of things crawling on you. Like, not kids, cos that I can tolerate way more than insecty things that I can’t identify.
Probably good for bonding and shit but …
I just can’t do it.
So I did a search and found a hotel and said “Right, pack, we’re going there” and found ourselves in Warrnambool.
Which had some bonuses, because I could at all stages reduce the rate of obstructive, obstinate and whiny children by one.
One is going to be a marine biologist, so he was quelled with promises to see if we could find some whales, and another likes rocks, and the climbing on of rocks, so we could happy him up with promises to find some rocks to climb.
The other one just isn’t happy unless wifi and screens are involved, and wasn’t going to be happy no matter what we promised him.
Thus the standard discussions that involve considerably reluctance to agree with anything suggested, by all three of them, ensued. I even asked if we could skip the bullshit, but no, they weren’t happy with that idea.
It seemed they weren’t able to cooperate at any level until they had complained about it quite considerably beforehand. All part of the ritual of eating breakfast, getting dressed, bitching about anything and everything that is suggested, for no other reason than just because and even despite the fact that they do this