Lynne Hyland
DO Lynne and hubby Ian cook
IYurts at campsite t’s remarkable how social distancing can bring people closer together. Take my street, for instance.
It started with a WhatsApp group in lockdown (“we’ve got a Sainsbury’s delivery, who’s in?” etc) but it soon turned into an online mini Zoom community.
We either passed the time with our nearest neighbours playing rainy Sunday afternoon bingo or attended virtual Pilates classes with our road’s resident instructor.
As restrictions slowly eased, we even set up a socially distanced pavement pub, jokingly dubbed The Long Arms, where we placed chairs in two-metre family bubbles and hatched plans for a postpandemic future.
So, when Super Saturday finally arrived on July 4, there was only one thing to do: pack up our cars, hit the road and escape en masse for a celebratory getaway.
Our destination was the friendly, family-run Woodyhyde Campsite near Corfe Castle in
Dorset, which had reopened that day and was making a sterling effort to adapt to the new normal. Alternate sinks in the communal block were taped off, there was a daily two-hour deep clean of the toilet and shower facilities, and the well-stocked shop had a one-way system which did little to curb our children’s voracious sweetie buying. There are three main fields on the site, but we had opted for the VIP option with zero faff. Woodyhyde has a glamping enclosure tucked away in a far corner, with five immaculate yurts and nothing to hammer into the ground apart from the children’s swingball set.
Our kids hurtled out of the car and unzipped the door to Calypso, revealing the sweetest little hobbit house, decked out with fairy lights and glittery butterflies. Inside were two single beds for the kids and a comfy wrought iron double, which my 6ft 6in husband Ian was relieved
Beats a camp bed
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There was nothing to hammer into ground apart from the swingball