Call me an ungrateful cow but.....

So, the guy who lives at my place just got a message from his fabulous English cousins saying they are toying with the idea of coming out here at Christmas. Fantastic. I love them and wish they would migrate and its been a few years since their last trip and we miss them heaps. I have no problem at all with them 'potentially' coming out for a visit. Hell, we can even accommodate them in a real bed this time as opposed to the air mattress shoved in the salon.

The issue I have with them 'potentially' coming out is that it sends the guy who lives at my place into a 'retired-tour-guide-camping-holiday-planning' frenzy.

The phrase 'where would YOU like to go on our next camping trip?' sends me into different kind of frenzy. The kind that involves the sharpest knife in the kitchen and my wrists. You're probably thinking 'whinging cow, he's asking YOU where YOU want to go'!! But no people, he's really asking me to start organising the menu and prepping the kit for a trip to a location I really have very little say on (I've been suggesting any beach location for years and he keeps taking me further and further inland and Australia has a fucking lot of inland!) that will involve me entertaining 2 small children, 1 of which is autistic and 1 large one without electricity, high speed internet, a proper hot water service, a working microwave, innerspring mattresses, a seemingly endless supply of clean clothes and fencing to stop them DROWNING IN A CREEK. 

Think about that for just a moment.

Then add to the fact it takes us approximately 3 hours to set up our kit and 4 to pack it up and he wants to do 2 or 3 locations on this 'potential' trip with 500-600km between camps.

He's lost his freakin' mind. 


I'm praying to the sanity gods that the poms just wanna hang out in our little house.