26 Nov 2024
An End-Of-Summer Glamping Trip In Suffolk
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.
17 Nov 2021
An Autumnal Cabin In Norfolk
In September, Gary and I headed back to Norfolk for another ‘glamping’ experience. We went to the same place we stayed last year, only this time opting for the cabin instead of the yurts. Like the yurts, the cabin didn’t have electricity but it was just that bit more protected from the elements. And just like the yurts, there was a beautiful roll-top bath heated by a log-burning stove. It chucked it down for the majority of our two nights (although we did manage to squeeze in some star gazing and marshmallow toasting before the rain came) but this did result in some serious cosy autumnal vibes:
11 Sept 2020
Glamping In Norfolk
*squints* is this a travel post?
We. Went. Away. Like away. On holiday. Granted, it was only 30 miles from home and for 3 nights but I am absolutely owning this as a holiday. Take that 2020.
Like a lot of people right now, once we’d let go of the original 2020 travel plans (miss you Berlin & Lisbon, sob) and lockdown began to ease, we started looking at getting the hell away from home. Like, love you house, but it had been six months. Time to get away from our own four walls… and, well, walls in general really.
Enter: glamping.
Glamping has been something I have wanted to try for a while now but admittedly has been pushed to one side several times in favour of holidaying abroad. So it seemed that the summer of 2020 was the perfect time to finally bring it to the top of our holiday plans.
My friend Lizzie pointed me in the direction of Canopy & Stars which ngl, is a little bit like glamping porn. That site is covered in hundreds of beautiful looking glamping experiences and I lost several hours flicking through all the pictures.
We didn’t want to go too far so we settled on rural Norfolk and the beautiful Oyster Catcher on Bagthorpe Farm. Two biodomes; one bedroom and one split into a kitchen and bathroom complete with roll top bath.
I gotta say: I am a glamping convert. As far as I could tell, it was all the best bits of camping minus all the faff that can come with it, with the comfort of a bed and flushing toilet. And there’s just something fun about a room under canvas. It was a simple few days but really good for the soul.
The sun was blazing on our first evening so we settled down with snacks and wine and watched it lazily droop behind the trees. The moment the temperature dropped, we got the fire going and heated up (on the camping stove, not the fire) the sausage casserole that Gary made before we set off. The evening was really peaceful and still, and we whiled it away eating, chatting, stoking the fire and admiring the view. And obviously, it would have been rude not to toast a marshmallow or two. Once it was dark, we wrapped ourselves in blankets, pulled the reclining wooden chairs closer to the fire, and tilted back to watch the stars take over the night sky. It was beautiful.
We were woken up rather early the next morning by a) the cows mooing and b) rain thundering down on the canvas -slightly less peaceful but to be expected when camping in the countryside! Storm Francis was on his way but he wasn’t going to get in the way of a good time. We drove to the local village to have lunch at Bircham Café. Like true Brits-on-hol, we sat outside whilst the winds built up, periodically saving a napkin from being whipped away. Lunch there was surprisingly fancy; we shared a charcuterie board to start, Gary the seafood linguine and me the Mediterranean veg salad for main and we both opted for the raspberry and white chocolate mille-feuille for dessert (we had to google the name and then were disappointed in ourselves because god dammit, we’ve watched enough Bake Off).
We collected some supplies from the store next door (a random spread of quiche, scotch egg, olives & salads) because the wind was really building and we suspected we would be hunkering down once Storm Francis arrived later on.
Back at camp, I decided to try out that gorgeous looking roll top bath which required more patience than the usual bath-running. Gary got the fire going in the wood burner and then I had to wait for about 45 mins for the water to heat (although it was beautifully hot – the bathroom was like a sauna) and then another 45 mins or so for the trickle of water to fill the entire bath. Technically a faff but I was in no rush. I’d come armed with a Lush bubble bar and Storm Francis had well and truly arrived by the time I sank beneath the pink, bubbly waters. It was incredibly cosy sat in a steaming hot bath whilst the tent shook in the winds around me.
The winds were intense. We had no choice but to zip up the tents, lock down the garden furniture which were literally blowing away, and light a shit load of candles. Whilst we did wonder whether the tent was going to withstand the night, and it was very difficult to sleep, we did have some serious hygge vibes. It’s impossible not to feel cosy when there’s a storm outside and you’re wrapped in a blanket with a fire going, and reading your book by candlelight.
By the next morning, the high winds had blown out and we decided to have a stomp through the countryside. We stopped off at Bircham caf̩ for lunch again (just sandwiches this time) and accidentally fell into the pub on our way back. We were amazed by how still it was again in the evening, particularly after the night before, so decided to just hang out at camp and enjoy the sunset and stars again. I had another bath and then we threw together a random collection of ingredients in with some pasta and got settled by the fire Рyes, we 100% came away from the weekend stinking of smoke.
After we packed up on our final morning, we took a little detour to Brancaster beach which is huge and sprawling and beautiful. It was pretty busy but big enough that everyone could have their own space. It was nice to see kids playing and dogs having the time of their lives running up and down. We had a lil picnic and read our books for a bit before heading home which, because we hadn’t gone too far, was just a short drive!
Here’s to more chilled staycations during this strange year.
Hey there!
