Camping

I don't know why but last thing Friday night I thought it would be a really good idea to go camping. I think it was the prospect of a beautiful weekend and a vain attempt to prolong that summer holiday feeling. Anyway, we searched the internet, found a good campsite, packed the ca and off we went.

It was a lovely campsite, and very busy too, excellent views over the sea as you can see, and we were lucky enough to find quite a level pitch. This is North Morte Farm Holiday Park in the tiny village of Mortehoe nestled between the bigger holiday towns of Woolacombe and Ilfracombe.

We arrived at around 5.00, set up the tent and cooked our BBQ (once I'd been down to the shop to buy the matches I'd forgotten to pack.) Sitting in the sun and drinking cold beer was lovely.
Then the breeze began to pick up and by 8.30 had turned into a howling gale. By 9.30 it was gusting so strongly I began to wish I'd packed a pair of shiny red shoes to click three times. Unfortunately my husband refused to listen to my chants of "There's no place like home" so we just had to go to sleep hoping that we didn't wake up under a pile of canvas, half way down the cliff or actually in the sea.

You can probably guess from the fact that I'm posting this that I lived to tell the tale, but it was a very noisy night. I can thoroughly recommend camping anywhere in North Devon, especially somewhere with fantastic views, but do check the weather forecast carefully first.