Why sleeping outside is so much fun

Last night I slept outside for the first time in my life. Of course, I've laid outside often enough and have also fallen asleep outside (think campfire and a generous dose of wine), but actually making your bed in the open air, that was for the first time.

It arose a bit out of necessity, we were in a beach house and all our children were lying in the double bed that wasn't really king size. In the category of ‘cute’ and ‘how nicely they are lying’, my partner and I decided to spend the night on the lounge set on the front terrace.

I heard the sea rustling, seagulls flying by (and no, I wasn't afraid they would poop on my bed because I was smart enough to unfold the awning) and I felt that fresh outdoor air blowing against my cheeks.

I woke up at 05:15, so early it was already light and I felt fit as a fiddle. Not so fit that I took a dip in the North Sea (who knows, maybe that will happen tomorrow), but really deeply happy.

Could it be that somewhere deep inside me there is a primitivo that dethrones the fashionista? Could it? Anyone in need of a couple of Chanel bags?