We had some Dutch guests this summer.
Lovely, they were. Erudite and charming, as are so many of our guests. One day one of them asked “Do you have many Dutch guests?”
“Only a few” I said.
“Hmm, that doesn’t surprise me” he said. “The Dutch wouldn’t understand this.”
“What’s not to understand” I asked.
“Well” he said. “This is luxury camping. Yes?”
“Yes” I confirmed. ” The proper beds, the lovely linen, the thick duvets, the many fires, the ensuite loos, the beatiful bathrooms and the feeling that you are still under canvas with the odd guy rope to tighten if you feel so inclined.”
“Yes,” he conceded, “there is all that, but you have to heat your own water. We Dutch would not think that was a luxury. And you chop your own wood. ”
“Did that take a while?” I asked.
“Yes” he said. “I spent twenty minutes with my son chopping wood down to the size of kindling. Then it took another forty minutes to heat the water.”
“Really? What did you do while you were heating the water?”
“Well, nothing. I talked to my wife and waited for the water to heat.”
“When did you last do that?”
“Heat water? Never, hot water just comes from the tap in Holland”
“No,” I said, “when did you last spend 20 minutes doing something with your son. and 40 minutes doing nothing but chat to your wife ”
“Oh, very rarely,” he said ” there is always much to do and I am very busy at home.”
“Bit of a luxury then.”
“You’re twisting my words” he said
“No,” I said. “Anyone can plumb in a hot water tank. Not everyone can stop the world for you. That is the biggest luxury!”
He eyed me suspiciously and went off scratching his head!