And that was the end of camping as an idea. The twisted metal was taken away by some cheerful gents with a lorry, the paddock fence was repaired by some other cheerful men, and the truck was replaced with a stately-looking Range Rover.
Mother booked the family into a very expensive hotel in a Cornish surfers’ paradise. Big admitted defeat and packed the car.
Mother counted the surf boards that were being loaded on the roof rack.
“Four? But you can’t surf Big.”
Big grinned. “I’ll soon get the hang of it. After all. How hard can it be.”
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