Camping is high on my list of favourite things to do.

Our lovely Irish weather doesn’t make things easy for us, though.

We invested in a fabulous new tent in the summer of 2023. We only got to use it once that year – in Kerry. The weather was beautiful and we had a lovely time.

Last summer, the weather was brutal and many of the campsites didn’t open for tents.

So we went wild camping one weekend to a popular place for campers called Carrowtighe. It’s basically a field of roaming sheep alongside a small sandy beach surrounded by coastal cliffs.

A scenic spot but also very windy.

My son Tommy, his fiancée Chloe, and their young daughter Sophie, came with us, and they were using our old 4-man tent.

It took a little longer than usual to erect the tents because of the wind, but we managed. I did so much bragging about our brilliant new tent; how spacious it was, easy to erect with colour-coded poles.

I had advised Tommy and Chloe that when you look after a tent well, you’ll have it for years.

We unpacked all our stuff from the cars, blew up our airbeds, organised our kitchen, and then set up our dining area on the grass between the two tents.

We had sausages, bacon, beans, eggs, bread, and tea. As I washed up, Stephen sat in his camping chair reading, and Lucy lay in her sleeping quarters (very posh tent) resting, while Tommy, Chloe, and Sophie napped in their tent.

The wind got… well, windier!

Just as I was hanging up my dinky fairy lights, I remarked to Stephen, “It’s getting fairly blustery out there.”

I no sooner had the words out of my mouth when Lucy yelled from behind me.

She was buried under the tent. I bent down and got my back under it and pushed it up into position, but the wind fought back! It was hopeless… I wasn’t strong enough.

My fairy lights dangled in Stephen’s face threatening to strangle him as he rushed to the rescue.

He urged Lucy and me to get out. I pulled her free from the wreckage and crawled out into the fierce wind, leaving my brave husband behind.

I called my son for help. He poked his sleepy head from the flap of the perfectly stable tent I had regrettably cast aside for the fancier model.

“We need help. We’re down. Quickly… Stephen is trapped.”

Stephen was saved from the smothering ensemble, but there was no saving our beautiful 8-man luxury ‘robust’ tent. Bent and broken poles meant we had no choice but to take it down and pack up.

However… we did see the funny side of it! We laughed so much the whole way home.

We cooked marshmallows at our table later that evening. We took photos of them and posted them on Instagram. We just weren’t ready to tell everyone about our failed camping trip!