Linda said one afternoon, during a video tour of the property, “If Peter and I did this, we’d be divorced by now.” “We may be masochists then, because it’s brought us closer!” I naively replied.
There’s no stressor quite like the coming together of three elements: An inscrutable but crucial task, a visit from friends who have climbed a mountain to get to you, and not enough time. Suddenly Linda’s words applied. Roy was more stressed than I had ever seen him and I was too tired to calm him down in all the ways a partner is supposed to. Trigger pulling trigger pulling trigger, it was a downward spiral we couldn’t reverse for days.
Roy and I designate departments in our household, because that’s what anal-retentive couples do to make sure nothing falls through the cracks. As head of Inventory & Procurement, the task of purchasing items for the campsite fell squarely in my remit. The tent order was one of those things that starts to go wrong and doesn’t stop. As vaccination rates increased by the day, so did news of the virus’ variants, so traveling abroad and hotel viability was in constant limbo. Everyone seemed to have the same idea, and I think I snapped up the last round bell tent that existed in England. When the delivery app told me the package had been delivered, but it had not, I began to worry. I assumed it was lost and with no more round tents to be had, I ordered the oblong model, which was more than I had initially wanted to pay for a tent. When the round one arrived later that day, the larger one went MIA and my new best friend in customer service was practically giving me his home address trying to keep me happy. He set a deadline for the end of the week and had another tent reserved at the warehouse if it didn’t turn up. Friday morning, the second large tent was delivered so I notified my NBF not to release the third. He thought he caught it in time and we heartily congratulated ourselves. The next day, the third tent arrived. I had paid for two tents and now had three, and I was faced with the unenviable task of shipping two very large and heavy boxes back to the warehouse. I couldn’t bear the thought, and found a different solution. We’ll invite friends! Forgetting for the moment that what we would be willing to endure on our property may be different from someone taking a long-haul flight to a two-week summer vacation. Regardless, I asked my NBF to send an invoice for the replacement tent, promptly transferred the cash, and spoke with our good friends in America. They told us that normally they wouldn’t consider a camping holiday, but as this was me and Roy, they trusted it would be comfortable.
I was excited, despite the pressure I had now put unknowingly on Roy. Any warm-blooded interior designer loves a new type of project, and I approached the campsite design starting with ease of use, then comfort, reversing straight into the aesthetics that were pre-defined by the landscape. Mine was the easy task. We had been planning to take cold-hose prison showers ourselves, but that wasn’t going to fly with our guests. We (and by ‘we’ I mean Roy) now had to figure a way to get a hot shower into the campsite with only a basic electrical outlet. Watching him progress through stymied attempts in several directions, this was the first time I seriously proposed a Plan B which basically meant, no camping. Tents sitting in boxes, resources tied up then more resources required for new accommodation. In the end, Roy miraculously pulled it out of the bag at the 11th hour. He produced a fully installed hot water tank, good pressure, and a shower stall and sink console built out of sub-floor boards and pure ingenuity – all just in time to call off the drafting of the divorce papers.
By the time our friends rolled onto our property honking their horn and looking far more refreshed than we felt, we relaxed into a state of pure joy – holding up trays of cold towels and glasses of Champagne – and we meant it.
