Happy Campers

Sooo, we came, we camped, we conquered.

Except the cheap  double air mattress bit.

That baby beat us fair and square for the second camping trip in a row.

Beat us into a woosy phone call to the in laws to stop by a bit of BCF on the way to visit us and buy us a new bed.

Any bed, a bed that didn't have a slow leak and a dodgy, underhanded contract with our chiro.

We spent our Easter break confirming my suspicion that you can have a cracking, fantastic time less than ninety minutes from home with nothing more than...

as much stuff as you can pack, cram and shove into your largest car.

My other B.O.M. driven theory regarding showers was very nearly disproved with a couple of days of glorious, sweaty sunshine.

Luckily, Easter Sunday came over stormy and brought those showers to allow for guilt free lazing, reading, chocolate scoffing and bogan watching.

Also lucky because without that day of rain-ish weather, (BOM &) I would have been wrong.

Not my favourite thing to be. 

The armory of jumpers, jackets, hoodies and beanies would also have seemed a bit excessive if I couldn't have used at least one of my artillery.

The fabulous caravan park where we stayed was choc full of families, a playground, a jumping pillow, an ice cold pool, kooky bikes and some of our besties yuppying it up in a chalet on the hill.

(Granted, they do have a beautiful little baby boy whose cries sound very much like  "no tent, no tent" in the night).

We neighboured with the obligatory, stereotypical 'cashed up bogans' for entertainment value and a wonderful reminder of just how feral bellowing profanities at your kids really is.

The findings of my in depth study of this social phenomenon will be published at a later date.

The drive up to Ledge Point was painless - maybe it was the euphoria of the little road trip or just Magoo's excitement at having his Daddy there in the flesh after a few weeks of lenten 'Daddy fasting'. 

After some initial land rights issues, the tent went up fairly smoothly and Chateau Du Tent was in full swing.

We even entertained friends with a bit of fine (camp) dining!

Being good little Christians, we denied ourselves red meat on Good Friday.

Instead we subjected ourselves to a measly dinner of prawns, squid and fish.

Our gorgeous godson and fairly gorgeous real son had themselves a ball over the evening and the weekend. They ran in and out of our tent brandishing their torches like trophies and when we plebs visited up the hill, they played 'bunk bed bash' with gusto

An honourable mention goes to my favourite in laws for coming up for the Saturday
(after an unscheduled detour to BCF, thank you),
picnicking with us, being subjected to Magoo's jocks-less, spread eagled form and then being whisked up the dunes to join us for a spot of sandboarding fun.

'Nanna' and 'Dada' rocked it!

On Easter Sunday, the Easter Bunny managed to find our tent and Magoo's bed in amongst all the other grots in the place.

We later hunted for eggs and ran a family boxing session at the park.
You can take the girl out of the gym, but you can't take the gym outta the girl!
I also got to run each morning that we were away which was an Easter treat in itself.

Our second lot of neighbours (after Bogan villia) brought with them a real Easter Bunny, a fantastic little friend for Magoo and great company after sundown.

They also had a camper trailer - of which Hubby and I were becoming connoisseurs, after scouring the park to scope out everyone's set up. We obviously weren't very covert either 'cause we managed to score an invite right into one RV.

It wasn't all fun and games though. Hubby did start himself a little 'fat fire' VERY close to our tent to mix it up a bit and I have myself some ravishing gravel rash from not comprehending what "bail, bail, BAIL!!" means when you're sandboarding.

Hope your Easter break was as refreshing as the park pool and as chilled as my wine.
Shar :-)