The Camping Pod (for next week’s Liskeard Writing Group) any feedback would be gratefully received – ty:)

Prompt: The Camping Pod

The Camping Pod

We had decided upon ‘Cornwall’ as a ‘handy’ destination for a mini-break- and, as we ‘lived’ in Cornwall – there was nowhere handier.

Booked well in advance, we were looking forward to our week’s stay at ‘Glampers’ where they promised fully-furnished glamping pods that would be like ‘stepping into luxury’ – so the online brochure said.

Being within thirty miles of home, we felt that we could travel light and just ‘get away’ from the ‘bricks and mortar’ for a beautifully relaxing short break;

and, when I say ‘bricks and mortar’ I mean ‘house’ and not ‘daughter’ – it’s just a phrase, you know.

However, like an old-fashioned party game involving a donkey and a blindfold… on with the tale!

The camping pod

‘Was’

Rather odd.

We’d been given the nod

By a friend from Bodmin

Who swore by them;

Come to think of it

Perhaps he swore ‘at’ them.

It ‘was’ watertight,

Weatherproof,

And, to tell the truth,

Was very snug

Indeed.

Snug as a bug in a rug.

But, and here’s where the negativity starts:

There were bugs;

Lots of bugs,

And so ‘large’ and ‘noisy’

It was just like being at a crisp-eating convention – of which I have been to many – who hasn’t?

Now, I don’t generally mind bugs – in the right context, of course; but, when they are arm-wrestling you for Rice-Crispies over the breakfast table… well, enough is enough!

And then there was the cattle prod! Sorry, cattle ‘prob’-lem in the next field.

Whether they were Llamas

Or Alpacas, I don’t know;

But, they were driving us crackers! Now, I’m not making dramas out of a crisis; but llamas, as nice as they are, are very vocal; and, when it comes to bedtime stories, they are regular yakkety-yaks.

No, they definitely weren’t yaks!

However, it did take our minds off of the bugs for a short while.

I smile, now; but, at the time…

“It’s a crime!” I shouted. “I think that they should all be looked up… in dictionaries. Sorry, locked up… in pens… in doors… far away from the madding crowd. They are ‘so’ loud!” The exact words are a ‘bit’ hazy; but I felt like I ‘was’ going crazy.

I’m not proud of what I did then – I went outside of the pod (in my pajamas) and shouted at the Llamas ‘Why can’t you have quieter Khamas?!’ Which was quite apposite for me.

The strange thing was, that they replied, with an increased volume and an intensity that was pretty amazing to experience. And there was a voice, too (from the Llama farmer, I think) saying:

‘Ere! What do you mean by shouting at my Llamers? Us Llamer-farmers ‘as been warned ’bout people like you! – I got enough stresses in my life, just by being a farmer – now, I don’t want to have to leave farming – not now I has me Llamers – I mean, who want’s to be a former-Llamer-farmer?”

Well, there’s not a lot that you can say in response to that – apart from “Sorry!” Which I did.

Anyway, back in the pod, we decided that we’d had about enough – stuffed everything into our designer suitcases, and loaded our drive-hire Eagle Fly-Higher Float-on-the-Breeze Duo-Berth camper-van.

It was only as we pulled away from the glamping, camping pod that we remembered the vehicle line hitch – which… was still tethered to the pod by the electrical and theft-security cables.

Well, we shall long have memories of our stay at ‘Glampers Camping-Pods’, and none more so, than that of the sight of the bug-riddled, camping pod following us slowly up the lane and off of the glamping, camping site.

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9 responses to “The Camping Pod (for next week’s Liskeard Writing Group) any feedback would be gratefully received – ty:)

  1. I find it a fun tale…llama mamas are cute…as are their little llama’s who like dramas 🙂

  2. I came here to find out which kind of pasty you were, but then I got pulled into your weirdly winsome world. Since you live in Cornwall, I’m guessing you’re the kind of pasty that has crimped edges, rather than the sort that has pale, unhealthy skin from living in the city.

    • Thank you, Jane for your alliterative compliment of my world. 20,000 Cornishmen know the reason why I am like I am. And shall Trelawny live or die? Perhaps too early in the world for that question.

      Have only just moved here (after spending all available spare moments travelling here) so, haven’t quite got my crimped edges yet. Have a lovely day. G:)

      • I think you’ll find that only genuine tenth generation Cornishmen are entitled to crimped edges. You have a long way to go.

      • Ah! But my family cone from Millbrook, Anthony, Portwrinkle, St. Pinnock and the like. Just had to leave Cornwall to do Coastguardy things in Hampshire for a couple of generations – back now! G:)

        A bit crimped!

        🙂

      • So, your grandparents were deserters! Saving those in peril on the sea, when they should have been wrecking ships! The sins of the fasters will be visited upon the scones.
        At least you returned to the motherland. That has to count for something.

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