I've always had a love-hate relationship with festivals. On the one hand, I love being part of a huge outdoor party, Pimms in hand, nowhere else to be, roaming around the grounds as music fills the air from all angles. And on the other, they have founded my disdain for camping after packing away one-too-many [...]
After a couple of months hiatus from the blog, I've taken things international. For a milestone birthday (not mine), we headed off to the gorgeous Sorrento for some much needed R&R. And what better way to relax than to head up to what is claimed to be one of the best hiking trails in the world - yes, the irony is not lost on me either but 'when in Rome' and all that.
To me, the Isle of Harris was the place we went for our Easter holidays every year. We would go visiting, feed up on pancakes, gambol around the moors chasing sheep and long for the rain to stop so we could go to the beach.
Now that I'm older - nothing has changed, with the exception of an appreciation of just how beautiful this island is.
Despite being a fairly outdoorsy person there is one thing in life I like to avoid as far as possible: Camping.
Tents that are either freezing cold or boiling hot; trying to pack that tent into a bag that will never fit the same way again; squatting in the woods; gas stoves blowing out in the howling gale..... the list goes on. Basically? I don't like camping.