Over the weekend I was camping in the Cotswolds with a couple of old friends. Those who follow the blog closely may have spotted that makes three back-to-back camping trips over half-term. Nine nights under canvas in the British countryside and already being indoors has started to feel quite strange.
We walked fifteen miles on the Saturday and it was a joy to let the others take control of the navigation. I couldn’t resist the odd peek at the OS map out of curiosity, but generally tried to just go where I was told.
We nearly stepped on a grass snake at one point, but we persevered and the day finished in the extremely attractive and gloriously Cotswoldian village of Combe, where they were holding a fundraising cream tea for their village hall. The sound of the cricket match wafted over from the green as we did our bit for…
