Continuing the Story.

An early camping  book

Continuing this story, it is a kind of history of many campsites that have evolved over the years since the holiday with pay act of 1938. Some sites have become Caravan Parks and more, in many ways Tom's Field has attempted to capture a bit of the original concept of camping, however we continue.....

There was a building in the corner of what is known now as The Club Field that was so completely covered in ivy we had not even realised it was there. A tree was growing through the original structure, now known as The Barn. This building had been erected by the military in the Second World War as part of the searchlight installation and operation area. This was restored and used for storage. You can never have too much storage space on a campsite.

 It is needed for gardening tools, tractors, ropes, string, bins, buckets, notices for every occasion, taps and tools, paints and pipes, washers and screws and so on and so on. 

There was nowhere for us to sleep in the early days as the ancient caravan by the gate was rat-infested. So we put a sofa bed in the old storeroom in the shop. In the morning we would dress hastily and stumble out to meet the customers. It was some time before we were able to make the old blue caravan reasonably habitable and move in. Even so, rather delightfully, in spring, cow parsley, nettles and blackthorn pushed their way through various gaps in the caravan walls.

Because it was impossible for us, financially, to knock down the existing toilet block we set about reconstructing from the inside, thus there has been an organic growth rather than a fundamental change.We have introduced a clothes washing area with 2 washing machines. We don't have a drier but have a warm room where the boiler is. Here is a picture taken by a long term camper to record the old swing doors in the gents.Some of you may remember them!

The picture taken by a lovely  camper recording the old swing doors

There were piles of perilous, and often unidentifiable, rubbish everywhere, including broken glass, heaps of rusting metal growing grotesquely from ivy-strangled areas and, curiously, piles and piles of plastic in every form, from sheets buried below the surface to heaps of old cracked toys. Every time we spotted a piece of plastic and pulled, it writhed out of the ground in seemingly unending sheets which in turn unearthed yet another layer in the subsoil. 

Now the ground is grazed on in the winter by a neighbours sheep and this gives it the first cut of the season.