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Well, rained off and on through the Saturday. Though by Sunday it had stopped, with just a grumpy wind to remind us of the storms. Breakfast is a well established ritual while camping – fire, eggs, bacon, tomato, toast and anything else that can survive frying over a very hot top. Usually with lashings of tomato sauce. We all remembered the art (well, except for Y. who insisted she has never learnt how to light a campfire properly) of getting the fire going, necessity being the mother of pragmatic invention.
Conran is an excellent campsite. A lot of sites all scattered through coastal bush, so that even when full at Easter you still have the experience of camping. In the bush. Plenty of bird life to boot, around the camp there were pied currawongs, gang gangs, crimson rosellas, eastern spinebills, a bevy of blue wrens, yellow robins, kookaburra’s, grey fantails, and something that I think might have been a striated thornbill or similar.
Of course the Easter bunny still found us, J. and S. having been reassured before leaving that yes, though we weren’t at home great wads of chocolate eggs would still arrive. S. is old enough to know better, and young enough to still enjoy pretending, while J. summed it up when he mentioned that he was looking forward to getting some easter eggs – “well, when they get here ‘cos they’re not here yet”.
Camping with kids is fun, but when you go with people who don’t have kids it is easy to find yourself doubly anxious. Once for the kids just making sure they’re not freezing, starving, playing with snakes, and again to make sure that the others on the trip aren’t buried or lost in the child-centred world that is the young family. I think we managed pretty well – the kids are old enough to do a good job of finding things to do, playing with each other, or even (my goodness) reading.
It was cold, it got warmer, and of course the last day was glorious.




