So let’s talk (except I'm going to write and then you’ll
read) about camping equipment maintenance. Or what I like to call: Never
actually getting around to cleaning out the fucking tent.
.JPG) |
| This camp site is a thing of beauty |
Now the two cunts are very lucky in that we were able to
commandeer the majority of our camping equipment from the parentals. Most of
what we camp with came from the mid-80s and as a result rock some excitingly
bold prints. Tents, chairs and even air mattresses that are so old one of us
could have been conceived on them, and they are still in perfect pretty
good working condition. And this is because our parents looked after their
shit. They also weren’t buying a lot of cheaply-made shit, but more importantly
they looked after it.
 |
| This table has seen some things |
Every summer holiday, until I became an awful teenager who
refused to do anything with my folks, we’d spend a couple of weeks caravanning
at the beach. First it was Scottburgh, Rocky Bay or T.O. Strand and then later
it was Cape Vidal, but the only thing that never changed (well other than the
family screaming match that went on as we set up camp) was the fact that my dad
would clean all the equipment when we got home.
The caravan was unpacked and cleaned out; the tents unrolled,
dried off, swept and then packed away again until the next time we went
somewhere to hate each other in the great outdoors. And because of this, the parents
weren’t buying a new air mattress every couple of trips. Or maybe this is
because everyone who was going to be conceived had been.
Whenever we return from a holiday I vow to do the same. You
know, in the next day or so I’ll dust off the tent, pack it up properly so it’s
ready and waiting for the next big adventure. But then I don’t. The pile of
camping gear lies in the lounge for a week or so until my mum gets the hell in
and unpacks a bit. She might find a small bag of let’s call it ‘oregano’ which
she leaves on my bed and I’m jolted into action – I quickly pack everything
away and let the filth be future me’s problem. In case the tent bag reminds her
that we need to discuss the recreational seasoning or something like that.
In an attempt to be
proactive I bought a little dustpan and brush combo to take along on these
trips because clearly the cleaning wasn't going to happen after the first
home-shower. But it was last held while I waited in the checkout line.
 |
| This tent is not clean |
And then you arrive somewhere in the dark and unpack your
belongings only to remember that the last time they were used you were camping
in the desert and a dust storm on the last day ensured that you left only
footprints and took only 45% of the sand home with you. So you promise yourself
that you’ll definitely clean it out this time. And I will…in the next day or
so…
