Wet and windy Bank Holiday in a fabric house

How does the weather know its a Bank Holiday?  We booked to go camping some time ago, and remembering what it was like last year made sure I packed the hot water bottles and bought two heaters (life savers!).  Chose Sandringham this year and what a lovely camp site (its really worth paying membership to the Camping and Caravanning Club - god I am really middle aged?).  We were welcomed by smiling man on a bicycle who took us to our jumbo pitch.

Had a cunning plan, set up netball hoop for girls to play with whilst pitching tent thus reducing stress factor by at least 50%.

We were then visited on our pitch by some friends.  They have the joys of a camper van and none of the hardship of being freezing cold and the only solution is to bury yourself in a sleeping bag and resemble a caterpillar at 8:30pm.  After our cholesterol filled evening meal from the disposable BBQ we ventured over to see their palatial home, where I went on to consume numerous glasses of wine...(it never looks the same in a plastic cup!).

All very well getting myself into that state but alas, the walk from the toilet block all 300 metres away from my tent threw me and I got lost.  Not sure how long I was gone, but late at night all those fabric houses look the same!

So not only did I find people I knew on the campsite but also went to see my colleague Phat Dan do his stuff on Brancaster beach.  It was freezing cold and can't quite believe he stayed on the water for 7 hours!

The girls and friend at the fabric house

Sandringham house, the Queen was at home

Watching the Kite Surfers at Brancaster beach