The Iceman Returneth

Back early from camping. First two days were beautiful but the following three days of howling gales, rain and wearing everything we took ground us down.

There were definitely more feathers in caps then black eyes though.

• Laying on my brilliant new air mattresses, snug in my sleeping bag, hearing the wind pull and snap at our faithful old tent and the waves pounding on the shores of Horseshoe Bay.
• Sitting on a rock with the Noodle and watching him point firmly out to sea and declare 'fish'.
• Staying up way past our bedtime playing cards with old friends under a blanket of stars.
• Disgustingly indulgent cooked breakfasts.
• Swimming in the ocean.
  
• Sleeping in the same space as the Noodle

versus

• Sleeping in the same space as the Noodle. The first night he just wouldn't sleep. He just stood in his port-a-cot reciting the names of our fellow campers and throwing oof, his sleep toy, away and demanding 'up'. The second night he was hysterically overtired and just settled for screaming most of the night away. Every morning he was up way earlier than usual. We tried to eek out a few minutes more sleep by plying him with books but he soon figured out throwing them at our slumbering heads was far more interactive than looking at pictures. 'Funny' he declared loudly with each direct hit.
• The weather.

He learnt a stack of new words as well. Though his interpretation of them needs a little re-calibrating. Sorry for instance means: 'I've just punched you in the face, prepare for another.'