Ask anyone who has been on a camping or caravan holiday in the past it’s guaranteed they’ll have a story to tell. Campers’ stories are hilarious, especially from those who do the whole ‘proper camping’ tent experience. It’s always good fun but things invariably go wrong, especially when you’re first starting out. As an adult I love nothing more than packing up the car and heading off for some good old British holiday fun, but my very first memory of camping will always stick in my mind.
We’d gone to Marton Mere in Blackpool and back then in 1981 it was a fairly basic campsite. Visit the park today and you’ll find full facilities, a clubhouse and a full entertainment package, but my memories of Marton Mere are of muddy fields, a lake, feeding geese and a baby donkey. The nature reserve is still part of the park, although I must confess I may not be selling it very well.
I can’t have been more than about 4 years old, camping with my parents, sister and yellow labrador, also 4 years old and very friendly. It was the end of the summer season, the time of the Blackpool Illuminations and all in all it had been a pretty fun, but slightly washed out week.
During our time pottering around the site, feeding the ducks and exploring the nature reserve our labrador had made friends with a baby donkey, much to the chagrin of his mother. With much coaxing we managed to call the dog away and separate the two, and carried on with our day. That night we all fell into bed exhausted after a fun day of activities and walking, all very tired, and so it felt like just a few minutes later when dawn had broken and we were awoken to a very loud braying sound.
If you’ve ever been camping yourself you’ll know how difficult it is to extricate yourself from a sleeping bag in half light, falling over things left out from the night before. After a few choice words from my dad I heard him finally unzip the bedroom, peer into the tent and exclaiming ‘there’s a flaming donkey in here!’.
That’s right, our labrador had escaped, wandered out at dawn, and brought the baby donkey into the tent. The braying sound was mother donkey standing outside the tent getting more and more upset at the kidnapping of her baby. As my dad attempted, half dressed to push the baby donkey out of the tent, the dog leapt around his feet barking, my mother and myself clutched each other, helpless with laughter as my dad fell into a pole and half collapsed the tent.
Then, mummy donkey charged the tent.
Needless to say one of our first family camping holidays ended a little earlier than it should have, but will remain in my memory as one of the best holiday stories ever.
By: Kath Cross
