A couple of weekends ago I disappeared.
I dropped off the grid and escaped to the countryside. Back to a spot I’d fallen in love with a couple of Autumns ago, back to Wriggly Tin.
A secret little clearing in the middle of a wood, dotted with a handful of Tins, or shepherd huts to you and me.
This is not camping as you know it…
Plump feather beds with sumptuous cotton sheets and your own stove to make a cuppa.
Alex, their owner, fits them all out himself. Each is unique and delightfully British.
This time we booked all the ones he had left, enough room for family to come and join us.
My chap and I arrived first, so got on with the important stuff…
Before heading off for a snoop around the other huts.
Harry and Emma’s, painted a sunny shade of yellow.
A little pull-out table and cushioned bench, ready for breakfast with the doors open to the view.
And another squishy bed!
Mum and dad had two huts. The one on the left has bunk beds in it for any extra littles, not that it was needed on this occasion.
This is the biggest, and I think best laid out, Tin.
On the left there’s a full sized double bed. A kitchen in the middle…
… and bunk beds on the right.
The loos and showers sit off on their own.
Pristine, with water so hot you have to be careful! A true luxury.
Back at our own little camp we built up the fire and settled in for the afternoon.
Once the others arrived we popped the bubbles and jumped into the tub.
I told you this wasn’t regular camping!
We stretched out in the hot, cedar scented water and watched the sun set.
The boys stoked the fire and we got set to cook supper.
Alex will happily arrange a shepherd’s pie or stew for your first night (or every night, if you’d like!) as an easy supper.
After a hearty combination of pork and apple stew with buttered baby potatoes, we sat beside the fire and watched the stars come out. Glistening into life one by one as we looked on, with snoozing dogs on our knees and the fire crackling beside us.
Everyone headed to their beds in the early hours, falling into the heavy contented sleep that only a day in the country can bring.
The next morning I knew just how to get them all up again…
…the waft of bacon across a misty field is quite the siren call!
A basket of local produce arrived and I set about putting it to good use.
Happy free-range hens laid their best eggs, a pack of outdoor reared thick cut bacon, half a dozen sausages, proper butter, a farmhouse loaf and frosty apple juice.
Just the thing for hungry campers!
Cooking on the campfire needs a little juggling and some careful timing, but this juice is well worth the squeeze.
The food gets the most delicious sort of flame licked flavour without being charcoaly.
A little patience is all it takes, and I don’t doubt you’ll get the hang of it in no time.
Good company helps too!
^ We even had a little box of leftover bubble & squeak this time. (Top left.)
Wriggly Tin doesn’t go in for food waste.
Though there’s not much chance of that with these guys around…
We sat around chattering away, sipping mugs of tea, strong coffee and perfectly sharp apple juice.
Enjoying the morning sunshine and being cut off from the rest of the world.
Adventure friendly Silver May sapphire ring (my other safely at home!)
No sooner was the toast browned than it was slathered in thick layers of salty butter and breakfast was served.
And of course, once we’d dragged the camera away from my snap happy fiancé he joined us too!
A long lazy family breakfast, no cell reception, no distractions, truly a great escape.
Tomorrow I’ll be sharing a recipe you can whip up while you’re there. So no excuses not to plan an adventure of your own!