Campingninja Blog

Royal wedding eve.  The day that urban camping – bravely pitching a tent on an exceptionally busy concrete pavement in ever so slightly windy weather, without guy ropes pinning it down – became comfortable and royal weddingly cool.

After a less peaceful night’s sleep than you can probably count on on more regular, tranquil camping trips, there’s sure to be no doubt that the happy urban campers will wake up tomorrow morning, almost as excited as Miss Middleton herself, proudly stick their little pinky fingers out as they hold their memorabilia Prince and Princess mugs, and in a rather quintessentially British fashion, toast a camping flask of tea to the happy couple.   

To Wills and Kate.  Congratulations Your Royal Highness.  Thanks for bringing camping to the capital!

As a fanatical camper I’m always on the lookout for new ninja fast ways to catch up on recent developments and innovations of the camping industry and tents in particular.  Having breezed past an advert for Google’s new voice search for mobile app, from the window of the train on my way home, I was keen to give it a try in my quest to find the latest tents on the market.

Say it to get it.  So I whispered into the ninjabile.  ‘New tents’… Nothing came up.

I tried again, this time slightly louder and at much risk of the resulting evil glares from the rest of the people in my quiet zone train carriage.  ‘New tents’… Still there was nothing.
 
So I went back to whispering but this time, with a much more articulated whisper.  ‘Nnnnew tentts’… Nothing again.

‘Neyou taents’ I whispered precisely one more time.  And bingo!  There I had it.  A search result for … mutants.  Mutants?!  Flabbergasted, I looked at the ninjabile in contempt.
 
Oh well.  I always was a fan of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  In fact some say they taught me everything I know as a ninja.  Turtle power!

With all the different tents you can see at campsites, there really is something for everyone.  From trailer tents and camper vans, to caravans, little pop up tents and 8 man palaces, big tents, small tents, and of course ninja tents too, there are many different styles of camping homes to choose from.  Now that's diversity.  And I don't mean as in the dance troupe (they're cool and everything but I'm much more of a Peridot fan myself).  

If it's true what they say about dogs looking like their owners, I wonder if the same applies to tents?  (That's tents that look like their owners, not tents that look like dogs!)...  Looking around our campsite, it does seem to be the case.

Proud owner of a tent that looks like you or not, as every camper knows, no matter how much you love your own tent, there's always another one at the campsite that catches your eye and admiration too.     

In amongst a field of tents encompassing decades of style – 70s cool and simplicity, tents with a little bit of an 80s flavour, and tents from the early 90s that can't help but remind you of a pair of Bermuda shorts – this one here would be my favourite today (as per ninja cam photo). 

To the tent of the day - a retro gem of a tent, and the tent to steal a ninja's heart away.

Up bright and early this morning and for no apparent reason I was feeling especially happy go lucky. I didn't know why. It was almost as if there was a feeling of love in the air. Full of energy, I jogged enthusiastically across to the campsite shop to get some more supplies for our breakfast.

Just like in the movies, and less romantically, like some supermarket adverts too, it was by the champagne and dairy products fridge where I met a beautiful fellow shopper. Our hands brushed together as we both reached into the fridge for a pint of milk and as we gazed newly into each others eyes, hers twinkled with stars. Wow, I thought! It was love at first sight.

So smitten and impulsively in love, I followed her around the little shop. I suppose it was borderline stalking but I completely couldn't help it. Really I should have been able to do it a little less obviously or in secret as a ninja, but it seemed that being so lovestruck, I just couldn't coordinate my skills. After leaning out to see her while trying unsuccessfully to hide behind a stack of breakfast cereals, I clumsily knocked straight into her. Oh no! I hoped she wouldn't think I was a complete idiot, but it was all OK - she laughed. Being Valentines Day, it seemed the perfect opportunity to ask her out, so I invited her to a candle lit dinner for two, tonight. She accepted. Wait … she accepted? Yes!!!! 'I'll pick you up from outside your tent at 8pm', I told her.

I spent the day preparing, polishing my ninja boots, smartening myself up and practising my ninja moves. I didn't even know her name but I was sure it would be something pretty. Perhaps even a traditional ninja name like Ninjarina, Ninjaretta or Ninjamy. My Ninja Grand Papa, who apparently was a bit of a fox in his day, shared his top dating tips with me - stay well clear of the pickled onion flavour space raiders for hours before I meet her, make sure I always open the tent door for her, and most importantly of all, never disclose ninja secret number 4,092. OK I thought, but I was sure no one had ever told me what ninja secret number 4,092 was. So I forgot about that piece of advice and made a mental note of the other two.

8 o'clock came around. I picked up my date and presented her with a freshly hand picked red rose that I'd acquired from the campsite gardens (sorry about that campsite owners!). We walked hand in hand, back over to my tent where I'd prepared an al fresco romantic camping dinner for two – sausages, mashed potato and baked beans. Ummm.

I was dying to ask her if she liked space raiders too, but first I guess I needed to find out her name. So I asked her and she replied. 'Carol???!!!!!!!' I spat out my drink. 'Your name is Carol?' I asked again for important clarification. I couldn't help but feel and look as if I'd seen ghost, as the haunting memories of the yoga rehearsing Carol van Klubbe filled my mind. And that was it. It was a terrible coincidence and such bad luck but I no longer loved her. She reminded of something far too ghastly to ever be my girlfriend. 'I'm sorry C, C, C, Carol (I struggled to even get the word out), but I don't love you' I told her. 'And I hate yoga!' I added, for the record.

I couldn't have gobbled my food down quick enough. 'There is no dessert' I told her, hiding the strawberries awkwardly behind the empty baked beans tin. I ran across to the caravan, knocking on the door until my Ninja Grand Papa opened it, and then I begged him to get her away and walk Carol (yuk) back home to her tent for me.

He was delighted to do so. In fact it made his day. She wasn't so over the moon about it though, and there's bound to be that post bad date awkwardness if we bump into each other around the campsite afterwards, but there was absolutely no way it would've worked out with a name like that. Even if we ended up getting married and she changed her name to Ninja, the memory would always be far too traumatic.…

Oooh, I hope my Ninja Grand Papa doesn't ask her to marry him though!

Bring, bring. Bring, bring. My ninjabile rang. It was a call from my Ninja Papa. Worried that I might be feeling a bit glum after the Carol van Klubbe disaster the other day, he'd perhaps ironically, clubbed together with my Ninja Grand Papa and bought a ninja family caravan and was inviting me away on a caravanning trip with him and my Ninja Grand Papa too. Funkiest of all was that I got to choose the campsite! It was the best news I'd had all day. So I got booking online at campingninja.com and selected a campsite.

The caravan was perfect for winter. We packed in our belongings, ambitiously including the sun umbrella and took a little piece of our home away with us, like a snail. It was a home from home. But not a sweet home from home once the evening came. Partly because despite being 83, my Ninja Grand Papa still insists on sleeping on the top bunk - one of the charms of old age, refusing to accept that he's much more than a grown up these days and reverting to acting like a child.

It was so painful watching him slowly climb up the ladder, with one step every seven minutes and then getting stuck for a long time half way up, and it was impossible to sleep with the distraction of him hovering mid way, dangling in the air.

Finally he made it up to the top. I closed my eyes ready to sleep. Then my Ninja Papa started snoring! That was it. I'd had enough of it all. I picked up my ninjabile and went online to book another pitch at the campsite. One all to myself.

A few ninja seconds later, my pop up tent was pitched and I was about to snuggle down to sleep. A next door neighbour to my silenced by the walls of the caravan, snoring Ninja Papa. Result! The perfect solution for a happy family.

And then to the land of nod, dreaming of, in the random way that dreams are, of peanuts, a tent floating on top of a swimming pool and a guitar dancing around a camp fire. Bizarre. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

End of week summary after first week back at work after the Christmas break...

Number of hours spent in the office = 32

Number of hours spent daydreaming about camping = 24

Number of hours spent browsing campsites on Campingninja.com = 8

Number of close shaves, hiding computer screen from the boss = 7

Number of incidents when the boss saw me looking at campsite pictures online = 3

Number of new tents on the market meticulously analysed in true ninja style, for rain proof abilities, ease and speed of putting up, comfort and practicability properties = 9

Number of maps bought = 2

Number of new camping plates and mug sets bought in the online sales = 1

Number of packets of space raiders eaten = 5 (despite New Years resolution to try and cut down, in an attempt to try and stop myself from looking like a pickled onion by the end of 2011)

Number of ridiculously unbelievable excuses made up while trying to explain to the boss the reason why the Campingninja Outdoors Show Competition entry form appears on my computer screen every time they walk past = 4

Number of complete lies told to the boss when trying to hide how much I really want to go to the Outdoors Show, including a feeble attempt denying that I even like camping = ashamedly 4

Number of friends invited on camping trips = 3

Number of annoying work colleagues successfully and inoffensively uninvited from camping trips = 1

Number of lunch breaks spent frequenting the outdoors shops in the vicinity = 4

Number of holiday request forms filled out = 2

Number of caravans interior designed in my head during meetings = 2

Number of Campingninja t-shirts ordered online, just because = 1 (a new colour of my favourite 'map, hike, camp like a ninja' design)

Percentage increase of growth of inbox = a scary 400%

Number of emails ignored = all

Number of phone calls not answered = 14

Number of new camping gadgets invented in my head while on the phone to not very interesting people = 7

Productivity at work = 0%

Productivity of essential ninja camping planning = 100%

Productivity promise to myself for next week at work to make up for it = 200%

End of week analysis = a good week 

A night out under the stars, although we were not under canvas last night. It was time to party and celebrate with the stars, so it said on our tickets. But there were no famous people to be found. I wondered if they'd seen me coming and cried 'I'm a celebrity get me out of here' to escape. Or, perhaps even been so blown away by my Camping Ninja self that they had fainted. I looked down to check if anyone had actually fainted at my feet. Nope. There was nobody there.

And then I saw the stars twinkling away up in the sky. Ah, that's what they meant by stars. Real ones. And the party began.

As the clock struck midnight and we said goodbye to 2010 and hello to 2011, and while we made new years resolutions that deep down we know we have no intention of keeping (like cutting down on the amount of packets of space raiders I eat and being a more convincing ninja), I wished upon a star and made a new years wish for the year ahead.

Now they do say that you're not supposed to tell anyone what you wish for, to keep them secret or else your wish may not come true, but just between me and you, I wished for a good years camping... well, it is a secret diary after all!

To 2011, the year of the tent and a very Happy New Year.

The office Christmas party. A phenomenon renowned for its cringe worthy foot in the mouth moments and embarrassing dancing. So I try to end the night on a good note by transforming my hangover retreat of a drab hotel room, into a would be campsite. And here's how it's done...

Drunkenly pull the duvet off the bed and lay it down flat on the hotel room floor = groundsheet.

Shuffle the coffee table over to one edge of the duvet. Then place the desk chair towards the other edge = tent poles (which also double up as handy to put things on spaces – perfect for storing that bottle of water from the mini bar on, as it always helps to keep hydrated after a few too many glasses of wine!).

Next, remove the sheet from the bed and throw it loosely over the top of the table and chair structure = tent.

Use other random hotel room ornaments to pin down the edges of your tent i.e. the bizarrely decorated vase from the window sill, the spare coffee mug and the room service menu holder = tent pegs.

Pillow in and the 'tent' is all ready to cosy down in. Less hair of the dog needed to aid recovery tomorrow morning now, if I can trick my mind into thinking I'm away camping and sleeping in a tent.

An important tip to note is to remember to hang the 'do not disturb' sign on the outside of the hotel room door. Otherwise, be prepared for an early morning wake up call from the room attendant who'll probably come in to clean the room and find you sleeping in a tent on the floor and will possibly think you're a freak!

Blanket style tent also makes an excellent tent game to play with buzzing full of energy, little ninja cousins over the Christmas holidays too. As well as any other ninja relatives you're not too sure what to do with, including grandparents. Suggested variations of hotel room duvet and random vase = a great, great Auntie's blanket and the annual Christmas tin of biscuits that the man from across the road is bound to bring round some time over the festive season, because he always does. So this Christmas, I figure, why not make a blanket style tent to keep everyone entertained?

It wasn't a partridge in a pear tree, but a blackbird in the cherry tree. The four calling birds were freezing in the snow and looked more like four cooling birds. So on the 11^th day of Christmas, my Camping Ninja gift to the visiting garden birds was to put up one of my pop up tents in the garden, leaving the door open for them to go in and keep warm if they wanted to.

Everybody likes camping, even the birds it seems, as when I went back outside later there were bird footprints to be found in the snow at the entrance to the tent. Peering inside, it looked like the birds were having a Christmas party. Lots of tweeting going on and even some on Facebook too, and instead of seven swans a swimming (much too cold for that), there were seven pigeons singing Jingle Bell Rock. What a hoot!

It is a bit of a ninja tradition that 26 days before Christmas, I always write a letter to Father Christmas with my Christmas wish list on it (26 days to allow for postage time to the North Pole).

Dear Father Christmas

Thank you for the presents you dropped down the chimney for me last year. The walnuts and satsumas were simply great. Very useful indeed. You never know when you might need a satsuma or a walnut or two, or the combination of both even! You'll see from my wish list this year that I'd really like a new tent and a new 2011 diary to write my secret diary in next year. I've stuck some pictures in so you can see what I mean. I'd be so happy with any of the fifteen pictured tents, or any diary with a padlock – because it is very secret! Thank you.

Love from

The Camping Ninja

Signed, sealed without a kiss and on the way to be delivered. I just so happened to see Father Christmas in person (well, in ninja really) on my way to the post box so I hand delivered my letter.

Well Father Christmas thought something was really funny, but what, I don't know. Was it because I'm a ninja? Was he laughing at something on my list? Did he think I was too old to be writing letters to Father Christmas still? He just kept on laughing and laughing, until he laughed his eye out! Ooooh! One of his eyes fell out onto the floor and was promptly trodden on by a passing Christmas Elf. Oh dear, I thought. 'Father Christmas, are you OK?' I asked him. But the strange thing was, the funny thing that's not very funny at all, is that even half eyeless, he carried on laughing and laughing.

And that's when my little Christmas world shattered. He was laughing because he couldn't feel a thing, because he wasn't really real. Because just like many people have often told me, Father Christmas doesn't really exist.

Well, that was it for my letter. So on my way home I popped into the shops and bought myself a new 2011 diary and wrote a reminder in for the January sales, to treat myself to a new tent.

I can't quite imagine how I'm going to keep this shocking revelation from the rest of my ninja family, especially my little ninja cousins. Shame. I'm going to have to drink the brandy and eat the mince pie and reindeer's carrot myself!