Previous experience dictates that it’s pointless to go anywhere during the summer bank holidays.
Campsites become tent townships; roads to the country’s honey pots are convoys of coughing cars while crowds seeking that last hurrah before the year descends into winter mar any sense of recreation.
It’s best to stay at home, mow the lawn and spend considerably less money on a good bottle of wine… or whisky.
And yet I’m ignoring my own advice again this year. I’m going to Derbyshire to stay on an undoubtedly packed campsite and join the throng queuing for a shower – or the bog – and asphyxiate on the acrid blue cloud of barbecue smoke that will hang over the site.
So why endure this?
Sometimes the allure of good company and ‘a social’ is just too strong. This is a chance to spend time with old friends and hopefully forge some new ones. It’s a time for good food, wine and conversation and… perhaps… an introduction to a bit of sailing.
Whatever you’re up to, I hope you manage to enjoy it.