The wind howled around the tent, finally claiming victory as it ripped the pegs out of the loamy soil, sending the canvas crashing down, cocooning one of the inhabitants who tossed in a dizzy fever dream. Was the world actually spinning, or was this just a dream? But let me start at the beginning.

October half term might not be the most traditional time to go camping in Wales and even my Welsh colleague questioned my judgement. The forecast was grim (and I’m not talking about politics or economics… although they had both seen sunnier times) with strong winds and heavy rain due, but we had a strong tent with 4000mm hydrostatic head so we ploughed ahead. Our youngest had a bit of a temperature; playgroup had been shut recently and COVID was once again on the rise. Do we delay? Nah – let’s do this!

As we left the house for the second time (we’d forgotten to lock the door the first time!) the sun was shining and it remained that way until we got to The Bridge. As we entered Wales, we bade farewell to sunshine and said hello to traffic. Service stop. Traffic. Repeat. Our littlest one was very floppy at this stage and off food, so missed seeing the rain start at Port Talbot. But it was OK – Kiri’s parents were already at Pembrey and had picked a picture of our pitched tent to send to us. We arrived, said hellos, tweaked the guy ropes and wrote a shopping list… Calpol Infant, Calpol Junior, Liquid Nurofen, Cold and Flu tablets… plus a bit of food.

Between Llannelli Llidl and Llanelli Coop (loving these double letters!), we managed to get everything that we wanted and we all crammed inside Fifi for the first night of dinner as the professional rain lashed against her roof and sides. After a worrying half our where we couldn’t convince our little one to swallow either liquid Nurofen or Calpol, we finally got a dose inside, brought the temperature down and peace descended on our part of the campsite. Our older child was very much awake when it was time to be asleep as the grown ups (well, those of us who were parents) played Canasta. There was an audacious request from the sleeping quarters for us to play the game outside to allow them to sleep… followed shortly afterwards by a complaint about the sound of the rain on the roof. Both were politely ignored and soon it was time to set up Fifi’s table as a bed, transfer the kids to their resting point and return to our tent. We were pleased to see that it was not leaking, but in the damp air there was plenty of condensation.

The night was good; we clearly chose the correct sleeping compartment in the tent as the other one had a puddle in, where the tent peg had worked loose from the sandy soil. But that was easily fixed and as we stepped up into Fifi we were both handed a bacon sarnie and provided with news of a positive night for the kids. Surprisingly the rain had stopped, so we thought we’d make the most of it; adjusting the guy ropes again to ensure our tent wouldn’t be breached, then setting off to walk to the nearby beach.

I’ve never seen a sign warning of wild parsnips before, but we certainly avoided them on the way to the beach. At the beach there were some litter pickers and bags to borrow, so I grabbed one and we all proceeded to the beach. And what a beach it was – a vast expanse of sand, sun and sea with clear views across to Rhossili and “Kiri’s Hill”. A truly liminal place that was quite breathtaking to just be in. We enjoyed spotting lots of shells, including crouching on haunches for a good few minutes, following one that was moving (clearly with a hidden little crab inside). Sadly the train that offers short rides wasn’t running as the Welsh and English half terms didn’t coincide, but we had some fun on the playground for a while before returning to Fifi for a simple lunch.

What was running though was the toboggan run. 3 goes for £6.50… let’s make that 6 goes then! We have form with toboggan runs… not necessarily good form. So as “responsible” parents, we had to get the balance right between going down the courses as fast as we could versus making sure our children didn’t fall out. I think we succeeded… well we certainly did with the latter criterion and we definitely had fun. As the sun was shining, it would have been rude not to have an icecream, so we did!

Back at the van it was drawing time, then the kids had some down time with a film. An Autotrail Adventure 55 pulled up alongside us and we looked up the spec online, admiring its compact exterior yet practical interior that could probably work for a family of 4. Maybe we would go for something like that one day if funds allowed? After our dinner we continued musing on this theme as we browsed motorhome brochures from a recent motorhome show that Kiri’s parents had been to, as this was the last trip with Fifi.

We continued the game of canasta from the previous night in the same teams, turning the tables on the scores before we turned the actual table into a bed and departed for our tent. A spider looking suspiciously like a false widow had taken up residence in our sleeping compartment, so we released it back out into the drizzle before settling down to sleep. It was to be a very windy and rainy night, and memories of nervous nights in Bertha re-surfaced, but all was well and our tent remained standing and strong against the weather.

The morning brought a lull in the weather and after showers all round, everyone was ferried (as in shuttled… it hadn’t rained so much that we needed an actual ferry) to the town of Kidwelly just down the road. We were to visit the castle there… but pondered whether it was even legal to visit a castle without Grandpa. As our eldest quite rightly puts it “Grandpa LOVES castles”. I therefore channeled my inner Grandpa as we worked out with the kids the best way we would storm the castle, how to spot the defences, looking for clues as to where previous wooden floors would have been, giggling at garderobes and chatting about sieges. The kids appeared to enjoy it, but we’re definitely going to have take Grandpa with us to the next castle.

We’re obviously bad parents who haven’t brought our kids up to share our values though. We gave them both the chance to buy a little something from the gift shop and NEITHER of them went for the mangonel pencil sharpener that can actually fire little bits of paper. Clearly the best thing in the shop. We may have bought it for ourselves…! On the recommendation of a local, we went to the Gatehouse Coffee Shop for lunch which offered a cosy welcome, large portions and an open invitation for dogs. Ticks all our boxes (not that we have a dog, but dogs are cool). Our little one once again was floppy, so fell asleep as we ate.

In the afternoon we headed for a round of crazy golf which was a mixed experience, involving tantrums, country wees, holes in one, lost balls and a dragon to consume the final shot. By the end of the round, Kiri was beginning to feel poorly so once again the evening was low key and chilled, with a visit to CK foodstores to buy sparkling water, bread and chocolate. We really know how to live!

It wasn’t the best night – the weather was fine, but we were both under it by the morning. The bacon butty and coffee in the motorhome helped a little, as did the cold and flu tablets. WhatsApp was down and our new Prime Minister was just about to go and see the King, but I just wanted to sleep, so I crashed out in Fifi whilst everyone headed off for a wander through the woods to the lake, followed by playing on the playground. Everyone returned for lunch and it was my turn to be the one without an appetite. My temperature was on the rise too, so as everyone else ventured out for another round of crazy golf, I once again remained in the van. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to say a proper goodbye to Fifi? I obviously wasn’t right, as I couldn’t face pasta and meatballs for tea, or the “famous custard slice” from CK stores. Instead, I staggered to the tent as the wind and rain decided to up their game.

The night was full of fever dreams and every time I opened my eyes, I felt dizzy. A few times Kiri got up to check the integrity of the tent, each time finding it was still watertight even in the 40mph winds. Until 6am.

Our tent isn’t self-standing – it relies on guy ropes at either end in tension to keep the central poles vertical. At 6am this historic morning it was barely standing – one of the tent poles was no longer vertical, and the other sleeping compartment was rapidly filling with water. As Kiri studied the situation, one of the main guy ropes worked loose from the sandy, loamy soil. The tent was on its way down. Kiri burst into Fifi with the mayday call for reinforcements as I lay helplessly submerged in soggy canvas. The adults rescued the contents of the tent as I struggled to get my boots on. Kiri then stood between the two uprights, like some kind of reverse Samson in the temple, as her parents mounted a rescue operation, digging through the layers of canvas to find me, then half-carrying me to Fifi where I collapsed on the bed next to 2 bemused children. The rest of the adults dismantled the tent and stowed it away in the car and then the day started!

With the combination of illness, weather and a collapsed tent, it was clear that we weren’t going to stay for another night, but we wanted to make sure that the kids still had a good time. As soon as it was light, the first game of the day was a peg hunt to recover those that had been missed in the dark, then they headed off for a final game of crazy golf. I was still well below par, so remained prone as the others returned to the beach and playground, finishing up with lunch in the campsite cafe after Kiri had packed the car.

Fed and happy, they all returned and somehow manoeuvred me like a lifesize ragdoll into the car for the journey home. The road was a rough sea with no chance for me to disembark, no matter whether I had my eyes open or closed… but I found a compromise of one eye open was the most bearable. Despite not feeling 100% herself, Kiri did a magnificent job of getting us all home safely, packing me straight off to bed once home whilst she unpacked and got the kids sorted.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Maybe there isn’t one! Given what we know now, I think we’d still do it again. Now… we just need to get the tent ready for the next adventure!