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For years, the word glamping was one of those made-up Britishisms that made my eyes roll every time I heard it. Sort of like cheerio, blimey, chav, and plonker. (And can someone please tell me why cigarettes are called fags over there?) I grew up camping in the Missouri wilderness and thought it was all bollocks. But last week, I spent three glorious days with @bof in the rolling hills of Oxfordshire and realized I had been doing it all wrong. Check out @cntraveler for my English countryside diary.

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