Camping is not about deprivation, but indulgence
Tim Bowden (writer and broadcaster)
Dear Mr Bowden,
As I write to you, I am propped up in a bed (a mattress over two stretchers) in a tent. I have enclosed a photograph of said living quarters.
The temperature is dropping at a rate you can measure in minutes and the local galah population, underneath which we have slept for four nights (while our empty trailer van is being repaired) is making its presence felt not only with noisy night arguments among themselves, but also with their incredibly regular liquid messages dropping onto the outer fly of the aforesaid tent.
One of the residents in the camp ground has a dog called Gary who, by the sound of his snarl, could be quite scary to meet should I need to leave the tent during the dark and cold hours of the early morning.
There is a gathering of grey nomads communing in the communal area. Their increasingly drunken conversations carry effortlessly through the thin night air.
In regards to your words relating to camping as an indulgence, dear Sir, I beg to differ.