Rediscovering the 'Me' in 'Mumeeeeeee'

'I have always thought that there is no more fruitful source of family discontent than a housewife’s badly-cooked dinners and untidy ways'. (Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management, 1861)

January 9, 2011

The Great Indoors

It was 6pm on a wild, wet and windy evening. Two small boys bravely battled their way up the steep incline (stairs) to their selected campsite (the attic) with only a few carefully selected teddies and a Winnie-the-Pooh and a cow torch to light their way.

Up ahead (in the attic) their mother (me) struggled to get their small, tent (normally used on the beach to prevent UVA light) to stay upright. The ground was too solid (wooden and indoors) to hammer in the pegs, so she frantically searched the immediate vicinity (the rest of the attic) for alternative means to secure the guide ropes. Finally, she located four securing devices (a rocking horse, a shelving unit, a chair and an amp) and the campsite (tent in attic) was ready for its intrepid adventurers.

The boys snuggled down onto their make-shift beds (pillows) and eagerly tucked into their supplies of cheese and ham sandwiches (and some grapes which were not eaten). Slightly weakened by their exhertions in climbing (the stairs) to their camp (attic), they were delighted to find a (left over from Christmas dinner) After Eight mint at the bottom of their tuck box (small plastic bowl).

As the wind continued to howl and the rain lashed the night sky (attic windows), they listened to stories of another brave adventurer (a 'Where's Wally' book from Santa) and studied his ancient texts, trying to locate him among confusing scenes of terrible battles and shipwrecks.

Showing signs of being ready for sleep (it was 8pm), their mother kissed the small boys goodnight and retreated to base camp (the sofa). But the boys were restless and the bigger boy trekked back down the steep incline (stairs) several times to inform base camp that the smallest boy wouldn't stop talking and was stopping him from getting to sleep.

After several return journeys to and from the higher camp (the attic) the mother suggested that the smallest boy might be better off in his own bed. He thought this was a great idea; as did the bigger boy who grabbed his teddies and ran gleefully into the comfort of his own bed.

It was 9pm. Camping had lasted for three entire hours, which - everyone agreed - was quite enough adventure for one night.

Who needs the Great Outdoors when the Great Indoors has so much excitement to offer?

If you liked this post, you might also like this post, in which the kitchen became a fancy French restaurant for a night (or something like that).



  1. Loved this! My boys are desperate to sleep in the backyard in their tent. I'm thinking they would last five minutes, so I'm holding off as long as possible.

  2. We live in London. They could get eaten by foxes... ha. Tagged you at my house!

  3. Love it! My two are desperate to sleep together but I'm keeping little one in the cot until I absolutely have to let the beasts in the same room.

  4. He he - the best way to camp, I feel! I've managed to avoid the real thing with both mine, thank goodness! I prefer a nice 5* hotel!!

  5. Great post, very entertaining! We decided to do a real camping experience one year (I have great memories of camping as a kid, and amnesia as well apparently). After crows every day at 5 and uni students partying every night till 4, we swore we;d never do it again. Not even in our garden!

  6. What an imagination! I am off home to play camping with my wee one.

    Really like your blog.

  7. So funny! Really enjoyed this. :-)


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