When I Grow Up

The Aim of the Game. A Pie-in-the-Sky post interspersed with pictures of tents.

I do enjoy writing my little letters to anyone who will read them about the stuff I fill my days with. This time I went dancing, did secret crafty things, and played with a baby who has only just learned that sheep go "baa"*.

*he also thinks pigs, chickens, Daddy, books and that strange baby in the mirror go "baa".

It was a good weekend after a week of deadline racing, which is like go-cart racing but burns fewer calories. The crafting was worthy of a whole story to itself, but shall remain a closely-guarded secret for the next 5 weeks. I know, I tease. Buy a ticket for the Aurora Ball and you'll get to enjoy to results of our crafty ways. 'Nuf Said. Because as fun as it is to recount my pastimes to the internet, I am in some ways passing the time until I can be brave enough to get moving on the big scary plan.

So here is a post about camping.

Picture of tent, as promised.

I have a Bell Tent. Technically, I have half a Bell Tent, but conveniently the Other Half has the other half, and we seem to be quite good at sharing. It has a chandelier (took me three shots at spelling that. In between "chendeler" and "chandeleer" I gave up and typed "it has candles you can hang from the ceiling" before trying one last time. Perseverance, peeps) with 21 tealights in that makes my boss at work more than slightly nervous. It makes the tent noticeably warmer and very atmospheric, and this makes for a happy me. Keep reading for a photo of the atmospheric danger-tent. It has a wooden mallet, and funky low camping chairs, a wind-up lantern with a hand-crocheted jumper, a blanket/rug that I'm making out of donated yarn, and bunting.

At the end of the ridiculously soggy 2012 summer, during which not enough people bought pretentious tents, they were about a hundred quid cheaper than normal. With all the financial security that temping brings, I worked out that if I could gather 50 quid a month together, I could afford one on my own by my birthday. Together, we bought one then and there and spent our first chilly night in it at the very end of the 2012 season.

Our spot for our first Fancy Tent night ever. 

It is a thing that I am immensely fond of, despite my continual resolve not to get attached to inanimate objects. You see, I've come to this camping lark relatively recently. I have none of the childhood cold baked beans lurking in the recesses of memory that might otherwise hold me back. My first night under canvas was warm and dry and glorious and in the company of good friends who knew how to camp in style. With Gin. There was also a hot shower, and a stranger who gave us a bag full of very fresh mackerel he had just caught. I learned how to gut and barbecue fish and had an absolute blast. There was a sandcastle building competition that lost the competition element and became a 20-strong sand-village building endeavour.

I'm allowing myself to ramble here in the hope that you'll get that I've been bitten by the camping bug.

That gin-drinking, sandcastle-building,  mackerel-eating trip was before the entire summer I spent at an idyllic Caingorms tiny campsite, and before I started slowly getting myself set up to be able to go camping without relying on other people's stoves and stuff.

So I like camping, and I understand that the whole experience is more enjoyable with a degree of comfort in the mix, and with little things lined up that make it memorable and special. I reckon that the essentials for enjoyable lightweight, even off-grid camping, aren't all that difficult to pull together, and this is where the plan starts. That Cairngorms summer introduced me to a business model that I would love to replicate. The whole place is cute, and sustainable and functional and I love it. But it is someone else's creation, and along with their effort and care for it, they have filled it full of their own ideas, and their own systems and personality. I like the overarching ethos they have, and I think I can come out with another individual version, a spin on it that will be sufficiently different, but still hit the mark. And that is how I plan to make a living in years to come.


A plot of land with somewhere more permanent than a tent for me and mine to live, and to call a base. Somewhere with a decent view and a bit of shelter, and within a couple of car-hours from a city full of people who don't want to be there any more. I don't ask for much, me.

This is the best photo I have of the candle-thing-I-can't-spell. Unfortunately it looks like my head is on a stick. It's a whistle, honest.

The notion is to get my hands on a couple of acres of space I can turn into welcoming camping spaces. Pitches for your tent, and Bell Tent set-ups to rent if you don't have one or don't want to bother doing it yourself. Hammocks. Picnic tables. Outdoor covered kitchen spaces, and fire pits for all. Nice toilets and unlimited hot showers. Somewhere with a roof for your poor campers to take refuge in the Scottish Monsoon Season (TM). Breakfast on demand, and the tiniest shop selling anything we can make and get people to give us money for.

Because Human Nature is to be drawn to danger, especially when it's on fire.

It ain't much of a business plan, I'll own, but I'm always ticking away working something out. The huge outlay is the getting started, and it will be a while yet before I'm able or brave enough. And y'know I am lucky enough to have a job I quite like. So I'm a-working away and will do for a while yet, but now you know what I'm daydreaming about.

For now, I get to think of every camping trip I go on as helpful Market Research. I shall be doing some Market Research in exactly 4 week's time. Yay for Market Research.