Wild seals on the beaches in England! Horsey Gap, Norfolk


Day 2 of camping in Norfolk. The sun, again my friends, had come out to play. Like I said in yesterdays post, I write my travel diary’s as I’m living them but this one is written from the comfort of my bed, with a sun burnt face – thanks Norfolk! Told you the sun was out again.

Also, like I said yesterday, I don’t like to tell a story once it’s happened so I’ll be brief. Woke up, as you would expect, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head.. (Ohhh it’s another game of name that reference. I particularly enjoy playing it with James, because he knows none of mine. But lets be real for a second, there’s no way I brushed my hair.) So got up, got out of bed THEN put the tent away, as we had to be off site by 10. (Doesn’t rhyme). That’s a tight schedule for someone like me and my family – no breakfast for us then. But that’s a slight lie, once we got to Horsey Gap we sneakily cooked our breakfast at the back of the cars. I also had a pee there. Not as the same time.

If you’re a reader of mine you’d know that I’m new to camping, this is my 3rd trip. Already I’m in love with it. As a teenager I used to go on caravan holidays with one of my best friends, which would always be in the summer holidays (and we actually went to Newquay and Hastings, which is the other two places I’ve camped. Odd. There must be something subconscious behind that). So being on this campsite next to Hemsby beach, in the summer holidays, was a massive throw back to the atmosphere on the caravan holidays.

There was a group of teenagers next to us that were so cool, and only because they weren’t in the slightest – for their age group – but as a 26 year old it’s cool when someone younger dresses how they want and goes against the system. Can you remember the peer pressure when you were that age?! That’s cool. It’ll probably be an offence if they knew I said they were cool though, so lets keep it between us.

I love to stare at people, but nothing is weirder than me sitting in my camping chair and staring at a group of teenagers that is only 3 metres away, so all I could manage was side wards glances. This one chick was dressed like an explorer, and I really hope my mind isn’t deceiving me, but she was wearing a khaki body warmer (a bit like Nigel Thornberry) and a bandanna ruching up her short hair. I could only hope her pockets were filled with exciting instruments for her adventures. And a book. There would definitely be a book. A classic. On The Road, perhaps. Or maybe Alice in Wonderland.

I’ve gone off topic. My point was how it was a massive throwback to being 16 again, where, and I’m trying to say this really delicately (I’m rather blunt), the outsiders fit in. I don’t know what school is like nowadays, but these teenagers are my people. This was us. I had blue and pink hair when I was 16 and Sophie and I went on a caravan holiday to Newquay. They’re my people. They spoke about books out loud. When we were in Newquay we queued up at midnight for the last Harry Potter book – though I hadn’t read them at that point. 21 July 2007 is the date google says. See what I’m saying? It’s refreshing to see people playing ball games, having conversations and being themselves. I don’t know how else to explain it.

So Horsey beach. After breakfast and a wee, both behind the car, we walked 30 minutes to see the wild seals.

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This trip was a massive throw back for me – when I was 16, in Newquay with pink and blue hair, the seal was my favourite animal. They’re so fucking cute. There was two playing together where the waves crash. Magical.

It’s a very peaceful beach, understandably. I mean, peaceful till my little 4 year old brother came along, thinking he was wolverine and was running up and down doing flips. The seals didn’t react to him, don’t worry, and obviously you have to keep a distance. I read online they have their pups in the winter so I really want to come back then. Then I could possibly do the walk along the beach from Hemsby to Horsey like I wanted.

Highly recommend.

Thanks for visiting!


Clearing my mind with the ocean and camping – Hemsby beach, Norfolk

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I am very happy to say I have visited many beaches this year. More beaches than I have ever done before in one year. It was never intentional, and I recon if I put it down as one of my Summer Goals it probably wouldn’t have happened. It just happened because it did. Which makes it even better actually.

It started with Dunkirk beach in April, then Newquay beaches in May, Hastings beach in June and now beaches in Norfolk. And how many of those times was the sun shining? I know that’s what a lot of people really care about. Only this trip to Norfolk, actually. But I suppose because none of these trips were ‘lets go to the beach!’, we had never planned to sit in the sun, the plan was always to travel or camp etc, and therefore we’ve never been disappointed when there was no sun. Plus, it’s England – what do you expect?!

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In past posts I’ve shared my travel diary on these trips and this camping trip to Norfolk was… I can’t say ‘going to be the same’ because I’ve never really planned my travel diary’s – I take my notebook encase I get inspiration, then when I’m back home I re read it and make it into a post. Something about travelling inspires me automatically, I just know what I want to write down. It’s about the day and what we are doing, obviously, but I do know my ‘style’, I know what I like to document and avoid any fakery (I’m really not a sugar coated kind of gal), and somehow as soon as we step into our car and on our way, each time I’m back in that zone. I love that zone. I need to work out what it means psychologically because if I could have that drive when I’m at home EVERYTHING on my to do list would be done. I think I understand it, travelling clears my head and makes way for the things I deem important – and the negative stuff which stops me in day to day life just fucks off.

So this trip was no different, as soon as the day arrived my brain changed and I was mindful and chill and wanted to document our time. For some reason though, and I think it’s got to be because I was in such a bad way before we came away, I didn’t get enough time to write anything. I just revelled in the fact my brain wasn’t as foggy. I still took photos, and I have a few words from the drive there which I will include next. Other than that – that’s all folks!


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And so the next adventure starts with some typically English and Mumsy, despite not being a Mum (other than to my plants), words: ‘Now it’s a 3 hour drive, we better go to the toilet!’

‘Nah, I’m alright,’ James said, and I couldn’t change his mind that it’s a good idea. ‘Well, if we have to stop in half an hour-‘ I let the end of my sentence trail off as I walked to the toilet. Truly because I didn’t have an end. He’s driving. If he wants to stop he’ll stop. But in need of a good ‘told you so’ moment, I thought while I have my wee I’ll write this passage on the toilet for evidence. That’s right, I’m writing this on the toilet.


11:53 we left the house. Spoiler alert: we didn’t stop at all. Damn.

Our first stop is two minutes down the road to a garage, in hopes of getting James’s radio fixed. This is how we work – we pack the car the morning we go and we get the radio fixed in the morning we go. To be fair it’s the same amount of effort doing it all on the day and the rain yesterday was so ridiculous that most roads in our town had turned into outside swimming pools. We no longer have to go to Herne Hill for a lido. If we packed the car the night before our camping gear would have been drenched – even in the twenty whatever steps to the car.

Looks like we have half an hour of no music till we get the code for the radio – thank you James for letting the battery go dead! Now we have to talk to each other! Yuck! Instead we are going to play spotify through his phone, problem solved. We do like each others company, I promise.

And 12:57 we have radio! That being said James put on his ‘new’ CD that he bought from a charity shop for 49p – 2007’s Now 68. The second disk only. First song Plain White T’s, Hey There Delilah.


15:10 we arrive and James cracks open a Stella. I, on the other hand, has a sudden headache and belly ache. So, as James keeps calling me recently, Sulky Emily is waiting for her pills to kick in before we put up the tent. It’s probably anxiety thinking about it, it takes many forms. But the sun is shining and the beach is only a short stroll away.

Put tent up and we chill and I feel great. Also beer. I’ve had a huge cloud fogging my mind the last few weeks and I feel like these camping trips clear it away, like it’s my medication.

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And that’s all I wrote this time. I could tell you what I did past tense but I can’t write it half as interesting when it’s already happened. Plus my memory is shit.

Thanks for visiting!

All we know of camping so far is rain

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Recap; Hastings, camping, beach, chips, seagulls. Now for day 2.

The day started with a full English breakfast made on our stove. For those who aren’t English, it is a mess of beans, sausages, bacon, fried eggs (give and take whatever else you want) and you would hate it. It’s amazing. English foods all seem to be just a pile of goodness that’s terrible for you. Others will never understand the beauty of cheesy beans on toast. As the only veggie here I got my food first – I was going to quote that rhyme kids sing, till I remembered it went ‘first the worst, second the best..’ I suppose sometimes it was ‘zero the hero, first the worst…’ so I could be a hero. I am the one not contributing to killing animals after all. I say as I am typing this eating left over pizza made with cows milk. Reminds me of Lil Dickys song Pillow Talking – fucking brilliant. Go listen.

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Turns out Dad was giggling last night and saying ‘camping is fun. Let’s sell our house and live in a tent.’ So that made my Mum laugh and my brother is four and so he just laughs if anyone is laughing. A lady approached my Mum and asked if my little brother was her son, she said yes, the lady said ‘aww, he’s so cute! And it’s he’s birthday!’ So turns out the little evil genius has been telling the children in the park that it’s his birthday today – it was 3 months ago. The lady said that’s so clever, she’s going to try that one.

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James and I were all packed up by 10 but my Mum and Dad have decided to stay another night. I think they’re cool with camping, even though it’s raining now. It’s all we know. Give us 30 degree weather for two weeks and there’s mass hysteria. We don’t understand sweating. It rains and we all calm down, we get this, we are familiar with this weather.. but commence the whole of England complaining about that now. Why are you never satisfied?! I personally am okay with any weather, see vegetarian and doesn’t complain about the weather?! Zero. No, damn, I meant hero.

We learnt from last time and stayed in flip flops in the rain. I wore my Birkenstocks in the Cornwall rain (which I didn’t think anything of because I basically live in those bad boys) (and it really is that Lil Dicky song now, but I got them before I was a vegetarian) and they stayed wet forever. Same with any other footwear – you’re outside constantly pretty much, so you and the rest of the campsite just gets wet. Everyone stays in their shorts, hoodies and flip flops – we give no shits, we are campers. Bad boys for life. The only people that weren’t like that actually were my parents, my Mum in particular who was wearing a jacket and wellies. Oh bless her and her over prepared self. At least she remembered the oil, unlike us. Without that no mountain of English breakfast goodness would exist. Thank you Mum, for I have sinned.

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Now something I don’t think I’ve really done, and don’t plan to do often so don’t get used to it, is a little thing we call giving advise. Advise. Makes me feel sick saying it. Here it is. I had a blow up bed from my days of festival camping and James’s brother was getting rid of a mattress topper. Combine the two together and you get a super duper nights sleep. Trust me, I’ve camped twice now. Expert.

Now my mother, who loves a tip, loves advise, loves a welly, made some notes which I will include now;

  • Saturdays are the nosiest night
  • don’t pitch tent too close to tent groups
  • always have a plastic festival mac handy
  • don’t pitch opposite a playground
  • always take a jacket with a hood

Camping notes from a middle aged couple. To be fair I would definitely read that blog.


The era we are in seems to be the era of festivals of every kind. Every couple of metres on the sea front there’s an advertisement for a festival. Festival of music, of beer, of fish, of food, of gin, of zooquarium..? What’s zooquarium? Oh how I could google right now but I won’t. Put festival in the name and I for one am tempted to go. I’d have no money or holiday left at work if I went to everyone I’ve seen advertised. They’d all be disappointments too to be honest, especially as I wouldn’t have any money left to spend there. That being said I do have a talent of having fun in any situation. One of two of my talents. Which is handy right now because the rain stops you doing anything normal. And you know me, all I want is normal, I scream normal. After getting drenched while walking from the arcade to the car, we began to drive carpark to carpark to see the sites. My two year old nephew called it a ‘parcark’ the other day – that never stops, two year old nephew, you will do that for the rest of your life. Anyway, you get to people watch while feeling they can’t see you this way, highly entertaining – especially when a seagull is stalking a bunch of girls for their lunch, and we wait in anticipation for him to dive bomb.

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Now I know you’re wondering what my other talent in life is. It is that donut people love me. I don’t know how I do it. I love them back equally, to be fair. Ever since I can remember I would go to buy donuts and they’ve always given me more than I paid for. At Thorpe Park, when I was 14, they gave me a whole extra bag free. I don’t understand this power but I mustn’t misuse it. So, I’ll set the scene, grey miserable day, everyone is drenched through other than my Mums toes in her snug wellies, and they decide what they need for a pick-me-up is good ol’ fish and chips. I don’t always eat chips from the chippy because sometimes they use the same oil for everything, so I said ‘no, I will get myself some donuts,’ and left them. I was pushing against the wind and rain to the first donut stand and it said ‘4 donuts for £2.50’ and I though ‘that’s a bit steep isn’t it, I’ll walk to the next one.’ So off I went again, against the wind and rain, to the next stand where it was exactly the same price. So I was like ‘that’s clearly a standard price and I’m just a cheapskate, so I’ll buy them here,’ ‘4 donuts, please,’ ‘that’s £2.50.’

I walked away. They had given me 7.

I had to tell one of my best friends because she’s often been there to witness these events. But wow, amirite? What a day.

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I didn’t write a whole lot more in my notes, and after visiting an old pub – which I just googled about – we just went home. I won’t google about ‘The Ghost of Dunkirk’ or ‘1066 country’ or ‘zooquarium’ but I will google a pubs history. Apparently that’s the kind of person I am. I wish I didn’t though, apparently not a lot is known about it’s history but it seems it’s not actually from the medieval age, but rather a post war build. One website went as far to call it ‘a fake’. That’s my whole Hastings visit ruined!

On my post about the first day I mentioned that there were so many strawberries and cherries for sale on the side of the road, then there was a whole bit about cherries being a chimney sweep compared to the strawberry which is a Lord. You should go read it. I thought I counted 7 of these stands, James said I was well off. So we genuinely did a tally chart on the way home.

Tally Chart of Strawberries and Cherries being sold (including eggs and any other produce) (not logs, but there was loads of them)


16. That’s right. And please ignore the ‘wanker’, it’s not directed at you and I can’t for the life of me remember what it was in reference to. Probably ourselves for being the kind of people that make a tally chart counting how many produce stands we drove past. You probably can’t read my writing anyway, not many people can. I shouldn’t have brought any of this up.

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No English person goes to the seaside without saying ‘I can see the sea’

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camping hastings

There’s something so satisfying in having more knowledge this time round camping. James and I were like a production line packing the car yesterday, there was no guessing or double checking. No stress, just very natural and for some reason that feels very cool. Not in the sense that we are cool. Would others think I’m cool with these giant sunglasses on and my adult scooter? Probably not. Hipster comes to mind. Just to justify my life choices to those throwing up in their mouths; scooters are so much fucking fun. I bought them for James’s 27th birthday two days ago and we have lived the dream ever since. Depression? What depression? Age matters? Who’s age? I look like a prick? Who looks like a prick? Hipster? Who’s a hipster? Need anything else in life now? Definitely not. Just more money to buy scooters: I’m a junkie.

I should mention where we are heading: Hastings. We’ve been on the road for 19 minutes out of this hour and a half car ride and we’ve hit traffic already. Although that’s got to be frustrating for James The Driver Man, though I won’t ask because nothing is more annoying than when someone asks if you’re annoyed, I on the other hand am still revelling in satisfaction. I want to live in a van, that’s no secret, I threw that idea into the world long ago, and with this satisfaction of everything having a place in the car because we are now machines of camping is just wonderful. I want certain things at close reach and others can be tucked away, so this notebook, camera, water needs to be in the side pocket of the door. My phone, purse, rucksack close by but not as easy because I don’t need that shit in my life right now. It all working effortlessly is the goal. I get travel sickness so I can’t rummage and shake myself about just to get a pen.

Today, Friday, is the coolest day we’ve had in two weeks. We are coming out of a heat wave, but to us poor English that don’t ever get weather like this in June, it feels like we are coming out of an oven. To cool on a rack before the icing goes on. A whole week of 30 degree weather. I love that when the weather is like that it’s acceptable to look disgusting, it’s excused. It’s hot out so you can wear next to nothing and look a sweaty, greasy mess. Everyone is like that, yes? The downside to the glorious heat? Other than sleeping in an un-airconditioned house, the bites. I have been bitten. I have luscious blood that bugs love to suck on, I can’t help it. So if you see a girl scooting down the street, dripping in sweat, not wearing enough clothes and covered in bumps, so much so that you’re sure she’s diseased – it’s me. Come say hi. I won’t bite. Just the swarm of mosquitoes surrounding me will.

Driving past signs for free range eggs gave me an idea. I said to James maybe we should do a challenge when we go camping of not bringing any food with us but stopping as everyone of these signs and buying fresh produce. On the way to Cornwall there was loads, as soon as you come out of London everyone seems to sell strawberries and cherries on the side of the road. Strawberries I understand, but why is cherries advertised right next to it? It feels wrong. It’s not worthy of being on a sign with a strawberry, they’re incomparable, it’s a lower class, it’s like a Lord and a chimney sweep. The Lord will taste better, the chimney sweep would be covered in ash and get stuck in your teeth. I do love burnt marmite toast though. I like me some charcoal but not the point! There must be farm shops too that’ll sell meat for James – we would just have to bring my veggie shit.

Another challenge – visit all castles on the way to somewhere. They’re everywhere.

Welcome to 1066 country‘ don’t know what that means other than a reference to the battle of Hastings. It could be advertising ‘0 800 00 1066’. I guarantee all English people sung that number in their heads. Oh the power of advertising. That and ‘go compare’. Come to think of it, I want some cherries now.

At 1:47 we have made it. I get out the car and instantly have to put a jumper on. Not a good sign for someone who only packed for hot weather.

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There’s us getting cocky, though not James because he doesn’t see what I write in my notebook (it’s all bitching about him), about being pro campers after camping once before.. We forgot mugs, tea, oil and chairs. Luckily my Mum, Dad and little brother are coming to join us later in the day so I will inform them of our fuck ups. James also forgot his phone charger but that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I literally have a phone because I feel like I have to have one otherwise I’ll miss out on my friendships. But we are different people. Different ideas. Different interests and that’s fine. We definitely haven’t had that conversation before.

Hot dogs were meant to be on the menu for lunch but after forgetting the oil, pot noodles it is then. Even though James spilt so much of them over the cooker. I also licked my fingers after adding the soy sauce and saying ‘salty’. I blame the giant gin and tonic I’m drinking for the stupidity. It’s delicious though, I feel fabulous. I’m very up beat today.

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While exploring the town there was a sign with something to do with Dunkirk – like ‘The Ghost of Dunkirk’. I have these moments, quite often actually, when I just don’t understand something. I read the whole sign but even then it made no sense to me – I generally over think and read into things that aren’t there, therefore complicating the simple. So no idea what this thing was about, something to do with a ship saving people at Dunkirk beach (I will Google it at some point). The reason I mention it is because it’s cool to think that we were in Dunkirk, France, on the 2nd of May. Now here we are, on the opposite side of the channel on the 23rd June.

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This made me laugh so much. Even now as I’m typing. Paybacks a bitch. Now you might be thinking ‘that’s cruel, Emily,‘ but that lake behind him, where there are rowing boats and what have you, is blue. The water is blue. You can only tell slightly in the photo below by the colour of the seagulls legs. It’s like toilet bleach. I have a theory that they’ve poisoned the water to kill off the seagulls. I’m not so much the bad guy anymore am I? James thinks it’s to do with bacteria, or something, but I’m sure I’m right.

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It’s 18:56 and we have parked next to the sea, listening to David Dobrick and Jason Nash’s new podcast, while James has fallen asleep next to me. It sounds like I should be bored, I think others would be bored, but sitting here watching the waves roll it, sipping a beer.. For lack of the right words, it’s so good. When I lived in Malta I spent loads of time on these rocks by the sea, just sitting there. I would be sitting in the sun too right now, alas! It’s all run out for this trip. For me, water is a reminder to stay present. Cities like London are fun, for sure, but coming to the coast and just looking out is almost like a reality check. I think some others would understand this but I definitely think that’s a personality trait. Not something you can change. I feel very connected to the Earth but James doesn’t feel like this, it’s just not in him and it’s funny because when I try to explain it I can hear how I sound like I’m talking so much bullshit. I sound like I’m out of touch with reality, where as it’s the opposite. It’s real. It’s just different people isn’t it. That’s a good thing.

Now time to wake him up and scoot.

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Mum, Dad and brother turned up in the evening and we had an event in putting up their tent. My Mum was a child camper and my Dad was an only child so you can imagine how that went down. Luckily pro camper here, with two camping trips to her name, took control. They have personally gone from cruises to camping. That’s the lowest of the low, Mum. I kid! I kid! She was saying how it used to be seen as a ‘poor people’ thing, back in her day, but how it’s a choice. It’s a good choice. Everyone should give it a go.

I think they like it so far at least, definitely my little brother is enjoying it. He is four after all. Everything’s an adventure. As James and I were drifting off to sleep we could hear them three giggling into the night.

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Was the camping trial a success?


The long drive home started at 10 am ish and straight into dense and misty rain. Lucky we left when we did and we didn’t have this when packing the tent away this morning.

We had two goals today before leaving. That’s how we travel actually, we generally make a loose goal for the day. No plans, no agenda, just a thought that pops up on the day. So yesterdays was to walk to the beach in glorious sun, shorts, bikini on, ready for beach life and unfortunately we couldn’t do that. Though still managed to visit them. We probably did more yesterday because it was raining to be honest. Today we wanted to have cream teas and dip our toes in the sea. Not at the same time. Well, preferably not.

I like to think of myself as a fun person, I’m pretty playful and in my head I can imagine me jumping into the sea. In my brain I ran in with my arms in the air, screaming but getting a great buzz while freezing my tits off. I’m wild in my head. James and I just aren’t extreme sports people really but I would like to be. The bravery escapes me. I don’t mind getting wet or cold, it’s just effort isn’t it. I need to sort that shit out. That’s another summer goal to do; one extreme sport. I have one is mind.

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Anyway! Cream teas were delicious and the sea bitterly cold. The teenagers serving us our scones and tea were surfers, obviously, who isn’t? We were agreeing it’s a shame about the bad weather yesterday and he said ‘but it was great for surfing!’ We could have been like ‘oh yeah! It was!’ or asked if he surfed, which is what he implied. Instead, us fatties scoffed our scones and went silent with a look on our faces that clearly we couldn’t relate to him. At least James bought a hoodie last night to fit in. As soon as we turned up he said that I really fit in with the style, where as he was wearing working men trousers, timberlands and a water proof jacket. I rocked up in a hoodie and flip flops. He needed a hoodie. I’m only joking though, it’s a town where you can’t not fit in. Everyone does, as you are.

Also if James really wanted to fit in you wouldn’t exactly buy a bright red one with ‘Newquay’ and ‘Lifeguard’ on. It’s the same one that I bought 9 years ago – but I remember paying £20 and his was £10. Mr Hip-Hop from the first night (who we did end up bumping into at the clubhouse last night) said ‘new jumper?’ I replied ‘how could you tell?’

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The scones really were delicious though, I swear down I’ve never had such good scones before. Although I can’t remember how they pronounce it in Cornwall – it’s an age old argument among the English. James and I say scone as in gone. Well, now typing this up I think I say it both ways because in my head I said scones as in cones. It’s so troubling. I did have a worry about whether the cream goes on the top or bottom too, let me google it now. Yes! we did it right. Well that didn’t change my life at all.

I suggested a brilliant idea to James. Seeing as we both have crap balance we know we will never become pro surfers. Life goal ruined. So we have a plan that one day we will go onto the Cornwall beaches with all the surfers, in our wet suits, act all gnarly and do the dude hand symbol, like look really cool and hip. Then blow up a rubber boat, run slowly into the sea and surf the waves with that. We would also have beers in our boat.

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On the journey home I asked James what song reminds him of our road trip through Europe. I’m very much a sentimental person and music, smells, certain things remind me of experiences. There’s a deodorant by sure that really reminds me of Avril Lavigne. A certain song reminds me of the start of our relationship. A certain type of jingle makes my brother dance around doing ballet in my head. One of the surfer pubs we went to threw me back to being 17 with how everyone was dressed and the music playing. You get the picture. So his answer was Somebody To Love by Queen – when the song kept loosing signal but I would still screech out the words, then the song would start again two seconds later so I would re-sing the same words and then it’ll stop again etc. Mine is Handlebars by Flobots. How James was shouting out the words while we were driving through Germany. I’m so sentimental, those memories are very special to me.

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That was all for our first camping trip. The end. People doubted the idea because it was so far away and for only two nights – but I so recommend it. I don’t recommend it if you are seriously lacking sleep and hungover, the drive there was a bitch, but the journey back was wonderful. I take sickness pills and they generally completely knock me out but I fought it for a few hours out of guilt of being a passenger. I should have just slept because I was a zombie but on the inside those travel pills made me feel amazing. They completely chill you out and for someone who has anxiety everyday it’s just mind blowing. Don’t worry, I’m not a travel sickness pill junkie. But then after about four hours we were both buzzing and having a hoot of a road trip. It was all a hoot. Hoot.


A day of rain on the Cornwall beaches



We woke at 6am to rain pelting on our tent ceiling. Slept wonderfully besides that. It was a good idea using an air mattress and a bed topper. Felt like an actual bed, there was no slumming it. Except for the rain, campings best friend.

We had planned to walk to the beach after our cooked English breakfast but here we are driving instead. As dirty as you can get in the rain in a muddy field, the shower this morning was glorious. Because of the already wet floor from the rain and the shower splashing I had to really practice the art of balancing to be sure my trouser leg wouldn’t get wet. Maybe other women are brave enough to get changed out in the open to avoid this dilemma and also maybe other women didn’t have a perforated ear drum when they were young and so their balance isn’t a bit off. The floor was all grassy and muddy from the rain anyway, it was dryer in the shower.

I managed to poop without worrying too much too. Well, the second time I went to brave it that is. The first time there was a women straightening her hair. You’d think because it’s a campsite everyone poops there, it’s fine, but if there’s a lady straightening her hair on a campsite while it’s pouring down outside, cats and dogs I tell you, I can’t exactly have a shit in the cubical next to her without her judging me. She probably farts roses and butterflies.

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We ended up driving around the coast with no plan nor map. Beach to beach. We stopped off at Constantine bay and bought a tea from a bloke serving it out of converted toilets. Now that sounds gross but it wasn’t, quirky more like. He recommended the next beach along, which is where we are driving to now. He and his wife moved here a year ago and he said it’s this beach that made them move, which I misunderstood at first – I thought he meant it made him move away and I was confused whether he was saying it was nice or a shit hole. When we left he said that’s another beach ticked off your list and James said we should actually do that – have a check list. Haven’t got any ideas of how to yet but that could be a plan for the future.

Beautiful beaches, possibly even more so in the dramatic weather. It was decided that if we were to move down here we would have to learn to surf or at least walk around in wet suits all day.

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The rain only stopped once the evening came. You hold hands with the weather when you do get-aways like this don’t you, your days are structured around the elements.

You see a seaside town for what it really is when it rains because without sun there’s not as much to do. Or there is but you spend longer doing it in the sun. It makes you chill, slow down, have a drink, lounge about. We didn’t get to sit on the sand and bask in the heat but that didn’t stop us going onto the beaches in our trainers and prayed they didn’t get too wet and sandy – my Birkenstocks are still soaked through from this morning. This part of England is stunning though. There’s still dodgy looking areas but they’re usually right next door to a modern or beautiful building, all very intertwined. Then again, in the sunshine I bet you hardly even notice the ugly parts with your rose tinted glasses on.


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Nipped into Walkabout for a drink. Choosing pubs that only have sea views is a win, a big recommendation. There was two groups of stag doos in Walkabout. One quiet, having a laugh but all definitely adults and probably work on computers. The other all dressed in football kits, handing out yellow and red cards, had a ref whistle and used it a lot, and all of them absolutely fucked. Sure the football team looked like they were having more fun by the sheer noise but the quiet group will at least make it the whole night. This was at 6pm ish, I give half of the football lads till 8.

The waitresses looked like they wanted to kill themselves when they served them food. They clearly hire pretty, young girls and I felt so bad for them. I wanted to be like ‘look, I’m 26, I have no make up on and I’m wearing a hoodie; I’ll serve them for you.’ 

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James is having a nap – it’s 9pm. You can’t question that boy, it’s okay, let him do him. I on the other hand have started to boil some water for a pot noodle. Now this is what I remember of camping. I bet my best friend, a pro camper, is turning on her comfortable sofa by the fire, watching TV.

He’s pretending to be mad but not really pretending that I told him it was 9.30 so he would wake up, when it’s just 5 past. Then told me off for being ‘too rough on my crocs’. I did it out of the goodness of my heart and also because there’s no entertainment that I’m used to here and I want attention. Innocent. Yes, I know I said let him do him, but see.. I’m drunk. Plus he has to wake if he wants to go back to the clubhouse tonight for a drink. It’s pot noodle time. The diary can wait.

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Hoping not to bump into the bloke we got chatting to last night. Everything seemed safe, everything was a laugh and then.. uh oh.. the worst thing possible happened.. he makes music. ‘Want to hear it?’ no ‘sure’.. He played us his music and then 3 tracks in he began to rap along. Then it all made sense, why he was telling us so much information about his ex wife, his kids (who were adorable) and his life story – he’s that person. He tricked us at first, it didn’t add up till he was basically selling himself to us, before we just thought he was friendly like we were being. They reel you in while you still think they’re cool and then when it’s too late you’re trapped and suffocating in the hip hop that’s playing from his phone. It’s still friendly, I suppose, but I’m really not a fan when people self promote themselves to me, especially when I’ve just met them and especially when you’re just having a laugh and a chat in a pub. And all you can do is humour them, pretend to believe in them. Then as soon as we went back to our tent James (which I was so surprised about because he can tolerate self promoters) was the first to be like WTF?! and we laughed and laughed into the night.

Top tip to everyone in the world: never meet someone and force them to listen to your music.


The camping trial – Newquay, Cornwall

Really, really tried to wake up at 6am. Managed 4 1/2 hours sleep which is pretty good considering we were at a Kiss concert last night. I had 5 alarms on which bloody hurt my hungover head and I gave it my best shot at snoozing and ignoring them, hoping it was a different day. Once I did get up to try and get out some of this alcohol poop that’s still lurking inside of myself I couldn’t straighten my legs and had a small freak out. Too much exercise and standing I suppose, and I recon I slept in the fetal position all night after hearing the devils music.

My brother made a funny comment that Kiss was a sign of the devil back in the day, less so than other music about, it was still glam rock, but you know what I mean. They dress up, act scary, then play a bop that’s harmless that everyone sings along to. I compared them to the Spice Girls actually, they wear the same footwear at least. There was a really dramatic bass solo by Gene Simmons. He looked up to the heavens as blood began to drip from his mouth, then back down at hell as he strummed his bass guitar, the blood pouring out of his mouth and off his extended tongue. To finish he breathed fire. I know right.. Then straight into another one of their innocent songs while everyone raised their hands in the devil sign. I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day. It was funny from an outside prospective, I really enjoyed it.

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Oh lovely, James got me a coffee from the petrol station. So we actually left at 7:46 after packing those last few bits that are easy to pack so you wait till the morning – rather than being sensible and do it in advance so you can leave on time. Travel pills taken, travel bands on, burnt marmite toast eaten, sunglasses on and we were out of the door. Then back in because we forgot pillows. And again for the water. Then the tea and coffee. We really aren’t organised humans.

4+ hours of driving on 4 1/2 hours of sleep.

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My past experiences of camping are the duke of Edinburgh award, caravan holidays with my best friend and festivals. All enjoyable and successful? Yeah, both. When it came to putting up this tent though, well let’s just say we got there in the end. I wanted to document it and also our first meal but you actually have to continuously do stuff. Surprise, surprise. I remember the part of doing the tent as soon as you get to your destination, check! I remember getting stuff done before you relax, check! I don’t remember my legs hurting this much but that’s unrelated (even though you’d expect that on DofE but I was a youthful 14 year old at the time). I don’t remember being this tired but again probably unrelated because the lack of sleep. Also don’t remember it being this confusing on how to get water. I walked around the toilet block twice before I decided to use one of the 5 taps. I styled it out by going to the bathroom and just looked like I was curious about this campsite – like all the campsites I’ve been to were completely different, like I was a pro just taking my time. James said he would have just used the first one he came across. I overthink.

I don’t know why I do stuff like that to fit in. It’s okay to be a beginner. It’s good actually, that’s where everyone starts and sometimes it’s even more enjoyable.

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I think our backgrounds of festivals make us paranoid about our belongings. We decided to leave certain things in the car and that wasn’t even my decision. Miss Overly-Cautious-But-Then-Still-Doolally-And-Unorganised over here, no it was James, Mr-Everything’s-Fine-Everything’s-Okay. Here we are putting our 3 burner stove into that back of the car and everyone else here leaves everything out as they go off and enjoy their lives. They could be local I suppose and we are Londonised.

We haven’t ventured out yet but you know it’s Newquay when the couple next to you, both with long, messy hair, hang their towels and wet suits on the car to dry. Like I’ve said before; stereotypes are real. The couple on the other side, with their child, are the same too. The mans long hair pulled back in a bun and the woman wearing a Kevin and Perry sun hat. It’s not called a Kevin and Perry hat but when your eyes are burnt with an image you just can’t unrelated to that. It’s not khaki and she’s not moaning and trying to act cool, don’t worry – it’s white with flowers on. Of course. All I wanna do is do it. Then there’s me sitting in the car with my feet on the dashboard (only originally to come searching for my notebook) drinking gin and tonic, hair hardly in a bun anymore and grass covering my leggings. Listening to the sounds of wildlife as some ducks waddle past me and James’s snores coming from the tent. Yep, camping is good.

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My G&T is gone, I need a wee and it’s four o’clock now, we better go have a little explore. I have a date planned for James tonight, which I decided in January actually but haven’t gotten round to doing it. For this date I needed a seaside town. As we are randomly here after booking it on Friday we may as well go and do it. Ready? It’s simply to go to an arcade with £40. The dream. Those penny machines won’t know what’s hit them. Fuck the adult ones at the back, who actually uses them when you can watch your 2ps drop down and if you’re really lucky win a minion keyring? I still have mine attached to my keys from Broadstairs in September. James still has Masha and the Bear attached to his backpack.

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I’ve been feeling antsy since we came back from our road trip at the beginning of May. I want to live that lifestyle, you don’t get it where I’m from. It’s similar to the feeling of being in a seaside town. Active, grounded, everyday things feel more special and exciting. I’m not sure how to word it, nor word what I’m thinking but it was so refreshing and liberating to be back out there. I haven’t got the money to travel, it requires a lot of hard work and saving – as it should be, earn it. Meanwhile camping is perfect, I’ve decided. £13 a night at this campsite. I wrote a whole lot of drunk scribbles in my travel diary about how cheap 13 quid a night really is – when if you pee in public it can be 50p. You get the idea, also get why I didn’t add those notes even though it felt like a revelation while I thought them on the toilet.