We arrive back at camp to find that an unusual family have moved in next door. Somewhat pedantic, the father takes two hours to peg down two small nylon tents. The mother does everything else. I think we’re in for some entertainment here.
Now let me explain these neighbours….the father speaks in a booming voice with over pronunciation, like a Shakespearian actor without a microphone. Number one son who is about 8 years old speaks the same. Number two son is about 6 years old and is considered inferior by #1. Mother rarely speaks except when #1 bellows abuse at her. #1 son rocks up for breakfast stark naked, Woody nearly lost his place on FaceBook in shock. Father booms out everything that we ever need to know about BARRA….MUNDI. Yes I think we got that and I think that #1 did too because now he’s booming it at #2.
These supposedly highly intelligent and obnoxious children paddle in the water each morning (have I mentioned crocodiles) but they don’t swim in the pool or jump on the bouncing pillow. This morning #2 caught a flathead. Father went into a booming oration of praise on the beach. I could hear every word from inside our annexe. He went on for half an hour, people were standing on the cliff gawking and wondering what the man was on about. I’ve wondered that myself. Each day they leave camp at lunchtime and don’t return until nine or ten in the evening, then bang and bump around as they only have one torch for lighting and from what I can gather live on tea and rice bubbles. Certainly not the bottle of red wine that has been sitting in the hot sun for three days.
Day 4 dawns, Hallelujah, our neighbours have started to pack up.
While I work on finishing our club Newsletter, of which I am late in dispatching, Woody lays on the bed and watches the neighbours pack up. Last night they had a loud family meeting and mother declared that breakfast should be in the camp kitchen. This morning at around 9:00 father ventured over to investigate the suitability of the premises (probably one of the best in the state). He rings mother to tell her that he’ll ring again when he knows what they need to bring. OMG. She calls the kids back from the beach and tells them to await the phone call. Guess what they need? Rice bubbles! With such a complicated task at hand she takes herself, rice bubbles and #2 child leaving #1 wandering up and down the camp calling for them in that loud theatrical booming voice. Oh spare us. Eventually #1 figures out where they are and we get some peace. Shortly after they all return and spend three, yes three hours folding up the two nylon tents and the sunshade. Although we do notice that they are a family of people who are good at picking things up and setting them down somewhere else. Thus most of their morning is spent walking in circles with one item at a time while father heaps loud and effusive praise upon the children for their help in the interests of a cohesive family. Interestingly we learn that a tent can be folded with just one hand and I believe that the secret is in doing it very ….slowly. (Does this mean I’ve been doing it wrong all these years?) They finally get away after 12:00, two hours beyond check out time and we learn that they complained to staff that their gate key wouldn’t work……..because it had expired!
Afterwards Woody declares this to be the best camping entertainment EVER!