The rain was making that light pattering, soft-but-deafening noise it does when you’re sleeping inside a tent. The Land Rover had our fancy clothes in, ready for my sister-in-law’s wedding in the Lakes. The leaky Land Rover had thankfully managed to stay dry and save my dress and the suit. Pete had gone for a walk somewhere in the forest and I had absolutely no intention of joining him.
It was a chilly late evening, I’d climbed into bed, opened all the windows just enough to hear the rain properly, made a hot chocolate and switched on Moominvalley.
Outside was the Lake District, tall trees, misting rain, dry mud, actual nature and inside, I was a tiny cartoon troll collecting mushrooms. It was perfect.
Basil was nestled on the side of a forestry track that night. We had taken a tiny lane, enclosed by 2 almost too-tight stone walls either side and drooping, definitely too-low hanging trees that fired at us with acorns every branch we brushed. They had caught on the roof tent and ripped the cover, but thankfully and unbeknownst to us, the following day was going to be the hottest that the UK had seen in years. Dinner had been quick, hot pasta after the long drive from Wales and we needed somewhere quick, cosy and easy to park. Easy to us, is halfway up a scratchy green lane where no one else is likely to be.
There was a busy weekend set ahead. Bridesmaid duties were looming, the hall still needed 50 paper stars tied discreetly on the ceiling and all I wanted was some peace and quiet before the carnage unfolded. I decided to get cosy and escape back to my safe childhood place of twinkly 8-bit music and soft pastel graphics.
One of my favourite things to do is exactly what I do at home, but somewhere epic, and sometimes that means video games. Recently it’s been Tales of the Shire while I’m looking out over the Swiss Alps, or Assassin’s Creed Black Flag while rain was hammering against the window as we waited for the Eurotunnel. Sometimes it’s playing My Sims after a particularly long and cold swim in the local lake or even Mario Kart with my husband, drinking morning coffee while the mist clears.
I’ve been taking games consoles on adventures for as long as I can remember. My sister and I spent most of our childhood in the back of Dad’s silver Discovery 1, clutching our Game Boys and getting through enough batteries to power a small village much to Dads dismay.
She had Pokémon Blue, I had Red. She had Silver, I had Gold. We always had the opposite versions, and apparently I was so committed to this arrangement that I still find myself choosing Pokémon games based on which one looks the most red.
Dad used to insist we waited until we were abroad to buy new games because they were cheaper. I think that made the holidays even more exciting and somehow, thirty years later, not much has changed. The Discovery has become Basil the Green defender, the Game Boy has become a Switch, and I’m still perfectly happy disappearing into a little pixelated world while the countryside rolls past outside. In a way, I suppose, my games console being in my bag is as much a part of my life as being in a Land Rover. It’s been a constant since I was a child and brings me comfort and a way to decompress when the world feels too real.
Sometimes electronic items can be seen in a negative way and I think there’s a strange rule with camping that everyone seems to abide by. Reading a book in your tent while it rains is romantic and wholesome and drawing in a sketchbook is practically mandatory and very intelligent. But pull out a Nintendo Switch and suddenly it feels like you should be apologising to Mother Nature herself.
But really.
The mountain doesn’t care.
I can do exactly what I like to do inside my home, outside my home and not feel guilty for not appreciating nature, especially after I’ve just spent 6 hours hiking in it.
On this particular misty evening, Pete eventually ambled back to our tent in the Lake District, declaring the incredible view he’d seen, a wonderful tree and a perfectly adorable little mushroom.
I turned off my Switch and joined him back in reality. We changed for bed and transformed into snug bugs in a bag, chatting about the weekend to come, the weather, his mushrooms and the strange noise I’d heard while he was gone (that was absolutely a wild boar coming to kill me.)
Eventually, we drifted off.
I slumbered into a dream of incredible valleys and beautiful weather, who knows if it was the Lake District or Moominvalley. And while yes, I love to throw myself off a cliff and hope I make it to the bottom with my mountain bike still beneath me, when I’m outdoors with a video game, there’s no jeopardy required. Nothing needs to break down. Nobody needs to conquer a fear or learn anything profound.
I’ve been taking imaginary worlds on real adventures since I was five years old, and I don’t intend to stop.
Looking back, I think the Shire in The Lord of the Rings, the ruins in Tomb Raider and all those little worlds I explored on a screen have shaped the way I see the real one.
I spent my childhood exploring imaginary worlds in the back of a Land Rover.
Now I get to explore the real ones from the front seat.
Leave a Reply