Growing up abroad, one of the perks (to make up for no crunchie bars or brilliant TV) was camping on the shores of the Med. Each pitch was between four trees, we took a table as big as would fit in the boot, folding chairs and the tent which had space for two sleeping rooms.
We lived outside, in the warm sun, I was young enough to wear only bikini bottoms and dig endlessly in the soft sand. Loads of other children to play with, not always with a language in common but it didn't seem to matter. Even the heavy down pours of rain in the afternoon were a treat to run through and everything had dried out within a hour or so.
Simple meals, fruit (watermelon / perfectly ripe tomatoes) and fresh rolls from the bakery for breakfast and lunch. Proper meals once it was a lot cooler in the evening. Bliss.
If anyone can recreate these conditions in the UK, I'd jump at the chance of joining them.
How we laughed at the pictures of our cousins on beautiful golden strand on the North coast of Ireland, digging in the sand wearing Aran sweaters. Having only ever seen a beach at the Med, it never occurred to us children that it was colder on their beaches, just thought they were covering up ridiculously.
Reading these contributions. I wonder whether my mother really enjoyed the whole camping experience, cooking without the conveniences of a kitchen.
DF was very keen and for children it was paradise. My limited experience of hotels in those days were needing to be washed, hair brushed and clean clothes to eat in the dining room.
When camping, it took me less than two minutes between leaving the beach and sitting down to eat, with no elaborate preparations required.