So here I sit, well lay actually, writing this blog on my last camp of the year.
I'm at Blackmore Club Site in a Vango Force 10 Vortex 300 and it's Christmas Eve Eve.
I always try to have a dads and lads Christmas camping trip with my two sons, Tom, aged 14, and 11-year-old Elliot. It's become a bit of a tradition and Blackmore is our usual destination.
We pitched up yesterday in record time as the rain was just about to start and then jumped back in the car to head into the Malvern Hills. We drove towards our starting point with that sinking feeling as the rain was getting worse, as was the complaints from the 'lads' about getting wet on the hill.
But undeterred we found a parking spot that shortens the walk up to the highest point in the Malverns and found ourselves in what turned out to be the perfect pocket of good weather.
More grumbles from the lads (Tom actually) soon disappeared as they got stuck into the walk, which gave us great views of the English and Welsh countryside. We ploughed on through the cold wind until we reached our summit, the top of Worcestershire Beacon.
Bacon sandwiches were consumed and I then suggested we head back before it got too dark. But no. The lads wanted another summit under their belts so we headed on to Sugarloaf Hill.
Then it definitely was time to head back.
Bracing but lovely is the best way to describe the late afternoon walk.
Our reward on the return to Blackmore was another walk but this time to the Swan at Hanley Swan where dinner and drinks awaited and a good dads and lads chinwag (subjects being Facebook, Twitter, school, the Hobbit - you get the idea).
Then back to the tent to watch a Top Gear special on the iPad (another little tradition) before bedding down for the night.
It was pretty cold outside, worsened by the wind chill factor (3 degrees) but inside we were toasty with our thermal mats, Snugpak sleeping bags and 16 layers of clothing!
But we all slept well, though a noisy owl did try to interrupt our visit to the land of nod at about 1am. But we'll forgive him that - this is more his home than ours.
So now all that's left is for me to climb out of the sleeping bag and tent, get on with breakfast in the rain while the lads stay snug in their beds (funnily enough another tradition), before heading for home.
Good thing these traditions.