It was a sign of things to come. I should have known recession was digging in when I started picking up freelance stories about posh camping.
It’s nearly four years on now since this story for The Express, but punk camping is still getting coverage in the travel sections.
Strangely, for someone who previously covered adventure travel and exotic adventures in Japan, I quite liked it.
It must have been a dad thing.
Here’s an extract:
I wander back with a full stomach as daylight fades over the farmland of the least populated county in Britain. A hipflask of Jameson whiskey, a good book and a night in my pod await.
At around 2am the true joy of the pod becomes apparent. I awake dewy-nosed and bleary-eyed to find black sheets of rain lashing the campsite, gales blowing throaty gusts across the landscape and the kind of chill only brass monkeys appreciate.
I flick the switch on the in-pod radiator, crank the thermostat to nuclear and snuggle under my sleeping bag for some serious slumber.
The joys of glamping!
Read the full story, In the Lap of the Pods.
What’s the best campsite in Britain? And what angle can I find for a return trip to Northumberland?
Post your comments below.