When I was a kid, we used to pitch a tent in our playroom and occasionally insist we slept in there all night. Our Dad had to come camping too – because who else was going to scare off tigers, lions and cannibal tribesman? – and the first part of the evening was almost always spent planning routes of escape from charging elephants and the odd local warlord. The tent was tiny, and not nearly as glamorous or romantic as the ones below (for the very obvious reason that going on imaginary safari with your Dad in a playroom is a serious and intrepid business and there’s no place for fairylights) but that only made it more magical.
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