Key Features to look for on Inflatable Tents We’ve found that once the inflatable tent is pumped up and the air valves are correctly closed and capped off that the tent will happily stay up for a week’s holiday without further air being needed. The Airbeam tents typically use vendor-specific valve systems in each archway to which a supplied hand or footpump can be attached and the airbeam pumped up in under a minute. They are simply less hassle! Blowing up an Airbeam Tent The overall weight of the airbeam tents is also typically a bit less than the older tents and they have fewer individual component parts to lose or break. We feel that the ease of use outweighs the slightly higher cost. It is true that the inflatable tents are typically slightly more expensive than their pole-based siblings, but that differential is reducing as the technology gets more mature. They are lighter, have less bits in the bag to lose, and are often backed up by a lifetime guarantee against leaks and the dreaded Brewer’s Droop (sorry). The inflatable ‘airbeam’ tents are much quicker to put up (I wanted to say erect here, but I couldn’t without sniggering) than the pole-based alternatives. In this article we outline the main considerations to look for when choosing the best inflatable tent to cater for your particular needs. But like the oily Daniel, Kidron's film is merely laughing at her.Remember how you used to listen to music on your trusty old CD player, but then looked around and noticed that the whole world was suddenly carrying their entire music collection on an MP3 player the size of a cigarette packet? You felt a little ‘behind the times’ right? Well the same thing has been going on in the world of tents and awnings – the old bendy pole technology has transformed into fast inflatable air pipes instead.
Readers who fell in love with Bridget laughed along with her mishaps. There's more — much more — and it's all equally labored and dispiriting. Bridget nearly succumbs again to ex-flame Cleaver's smarmy blandishments, gets arrested for smuggling cocaine — a big misunderstanding, of course — and tossed into a hellish Thai prison, where she teaches her battered, drug-addicted cellmates to sing "Like a Virgin" and brings some sunshine into their lives with gifts of fancy bras, chocolate bars and copies of Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. On the hopelessly bad advice of friends Shazzer (Sally Phillips), Jude (Shirley Henderson) and Tom (James Callis) — no, she never learns — Bridget eventually picks a relationship-souring fight over Mark's associate, the impossibly leggy Rebecca Gillies (Jacinda Barrett), and soon after finds herself in Bangkok filming a segment of "The Smooth Report," a boorish travelogue hosted by sleazy sex-addict Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant). This is the first of many cheap jokes at Bridget's expense, followed by Bridget's tumble from Mark's skylight, Bridget's makeup mishap en route to a staid party, Bridget's graceless pratfall from a ski lift and her mortifying pantomime at a Swiss ski-spa pharmacy where no one speaks enough English to understand the words "pregnancy test." Every humiliation is cushioned by Mark's impossible perfection on the boyfriend front, so she's naturally compelled to bollix up everything. Six weeks after the end of the first film, which united Bridget and upper-crust human-rights lawyer Mark Darcy (Colin Firth), the intrepid Bridget is skydiving bottom-first into a pigpen in the name of television journalism. She's degenerated into a clingy, obsessive, lumpen caricature of her former sparkling self, so witless and galling that Lucy Ricardo seems a steady, self-confident font of common sense by comparison. Sadly, in both Fielding's sequel and Beeban Kidron's fat-joke-filled follow-up to BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY (2001), all Bridget's (Renee Zellweger) problems are her own fault. A neurotic charmer who eats, smokes and drinks to excess, dates dreadful men, sabotages her own ambitions and then castigates herself in her diary, Bridget struck a chord with a generation of self-loathing women convinced by self-help gurus that all their problems — from fat knees to workplace inequality — are the product of their own inadequacies. The genius of novelist Helen Fielding's shallow, silly and compulsively readable Bridget Jones's Diary was Bridget herself.
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