I booked this relatively last minute in August when I was feeling a bit down about feeling unwell a lot whilst summer whizzed on by. I thought a trip in early September would be a nice way to celebrate the end of the summer and make the most of the weather before the leaves started to fall. I imagined the weather to be warm but with that freshness and golden light that emerges as the two seasons intermingle. I imagined Alfie absolutely loving running around in the woods, rosy cheeks and mucky hands. I imagined campfires and stargazing and so much fresh air that it knocked us out at night. And we got it all.
Gary and I have been glamping a couple of times before this and are fans. In my opinion, it’s like getting all the best bits of camping but still having a comfy bed to sleep in. This really was GLAMping; our safari-style tent in Suffolk had a gas-powered hot shower and basic electricity, but it was a good gateway to seeing how we would feel about more basic glamping or proper camping with Alfie. He had the time of his life so I suppose I better start shopping for tents and camping stoves and take a few deep breaths over what my holidays might look like in the future.
Within a few minutes of arriving, once he’d gotten over his post-nap grumpiness, Alfie was having a whale of a time sitting amongst the luggage in the trolley that we pulled from the car to the tent. He ran around outside, getting excited over the field full of cows opposite and the goats/chickens/rabbits/pig next door whilst we vaguely unpacked and then sat down on the decking with crisps and drinks, before heating up the sausage casserole I’d made earlier and packed up in Tupperware.
It was deliciously quiet and dusky, and I watched a bat circling around for ages. We let Alfie keep playing until it was dark before tucking him up in the four-poster bed. It was extremely cosy in there, the three of us lying in bed together reading bedtime stories. Gary slept in the bed next door (if you count the other side of a piece of fabric as ‘next door’) and I joined Alfie in the four-poster. Slipping into bed with him was like getting into bed with a gently-snoring hot water bottle; with all the fabric hanging above our heads, it was like sleeping in a very cosy den. Obviously, we were woken up in the middle of the night by the foxes screeching but what do you expect when sleeping in a tent?
The next day started with early-morning bacon sandwiches and then my parents stopped by for the day on the way back from their holiday nearby. We whiled away the time not doing very much; sitting on the terrace, popping to the farm shop café a mile down the road for lunch, having an afternoon nap in the hammock (me) or on the sofa on the decking (my mum) or the buggy (Alfie) before driving over to The Maybush Inn. I’ll be honest, the food wasn’t great but the location on the side of the river was excellent, and Alfie had a great time getting absolutely filthy playing on the muddy beach with his Grandad.
The rain came hammering down at about 4am on Sunday morning which was cosy but not great for sleeping or for a pregnant woman’s easily-triggered bladder. Amazingly, Alfie slept through it, but Gary and I got up a little bleary-eyed. I gotta say though, this was a lot easier to deal with when stepping out to that countryside air. We went into Woodbridge in the morning and had an early lunch at The Woodyard – their pizzas are so good – before retreating back to the countryside where an afternoon nap for everyone was once again on the agenda. Once we were all up and about again, Gary introduced Alfie to the concept of collecting sticks from the forest floor for the fire. I’m not sure he realised what he would be unleashing because Alfie took this very seriously and – as it transpired – had to collect all the sticks from the forest floor. There were a lot.
When I could finally tempt him away from this activity, I took him back round to say hi to all the farmyard animals (this occurred several times a day) and to climb on the hay bales. He was in his element in his wellies, surrounded by tractors and farm life – pretty sure this kid is going to be a farmer. Meanwhile, Gary was getting the campfire going. Ooof the smell of campfire! Obviously toasting marshmallows was on the agenda and whilst Alfie wouldn’t contemplate trying s’mores, he happily sat there eating the chocolate biscuits and telling us that the fire was ‘HOT!’, as if we were the ones who kept threatening to charge towards it.
Finally, we had a clear night and the stars were unbelievable. Away from any light pollution, the whole sky was lit up and twinkling, and I actually managed to get some half-decent photos on my phone.
On our final morning, we packed up, stopped by Woodbridge for brunch at Honey & Harvey – where Alfie ate nothing but hash browns – had a little nose around the local bookshop, and then it was time to head back to brick walls and central heating.
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