The Tent, the Bucket and Me was an obvious buy when I found it in London a year and a half ago. For some reason it’s been languishing on a shelf since then, until it grabbed my attention when I was looking for a book to bring on the aforementioned long weekend in Dublin. It turned out to be a good and a bad choice.
Good because it is cracking. Really. Read this book, especially if you’ve ever been dragged along on a camping trip as a child.
Bad because, well, it’s cracking. It cracked me up. Repeatedly. On public transport.
Luckily, I don’t really mind laughing out loud on public transport. Lately, though, I haven’t been reading too many books that were literally laugh out loud funny. I’ve read a few that claimed to be so on the cover but weren’t. So I was a bit out of practice. Not complaning, though. Far from it.