....On Friday morning I joined Kelly and her family down near Bournemouth and the New Forest for a spot of camping.
Small tent, big tent, van. Our set-up.
Whilst Kel had only arrived the day previous, her mum Bev and partner Tan, her sister Jodie, brother Mark and niece Leah, had been there all week.
Kelly, Bev, Jodie, Tan, Leah, Mark.
We spent a dull day, (weather wise), on Bournemouth seafront, walking the sand and watching a show of planes over head as part of the Air Festival that weekend.
Kelly, Jodie and Leah strut their stuff, with Bournemouth Pier as the backdrop.
The scene, (which attracts up to 1.3million people over three days), was like something out of a Martin Parr photograph. Classically British in every sense, from braving a swim in the sea or the wind on the beach, to the previous generation setting up shop outside their beach hut from which to survey the masses.
Cup of tea and a crustless cucumber sandwich please.
After dinner at local Italian restaurant, Alcatraz, (not sure of the Italian link there....), we retreated to camp for late night cards as the rain started to fall for the first time.
The following, (and final), morning Kel and I commandeered the travel stove and served up a fryers delight.
A fitting way to end a brief but thoroughly enjoyable little camping retreat, that even the predictable British weather couldn't spoil.