We are going camping on Queen’s birthday weekend. Anyone who reads this blog regularly will know how I feel about camping. Somehow though, like many things, I have been persuaded that it is good thing. I think I need to stop having meaningful discussions over a bottle of wine.
In reality this is probably what I’ll get.
I have been buying a few items each week to put away in the camping stash.
Pete is currently setting up the kitchen in a ‘trial run’ so we can save time when setting up for real.
Parents of one of Molly’s friends are also coming. They have a caravan and will roll up, put out the awning and voilà a campsite. We have a trailer and will roll up, unpack and two hours, tons of gear and many swear words later, voilà a campsite.
We have chosen a campsite where we can take dogs, which means we need to crate train Diesel as well as work on his ‘come’ command so each time he feels the need to hump another dog, as he does, I can call ‘come’ and he will immediate desist and cease returning to me. The trick here apparently, is to offer a treat that has greater interest to him than his current activity. I’m not convinced a piece of cheese is going to do it. I fear we will be the first family ever to be kicked out of a campsite due to their dog’s sexual misconduct. The camp is in two weeks so, no pressure.
Diesel is the only one who doesn’t want to get in the crate, unless someone is already in there.
There are no words for this.