Will I Carry On Camping?

Posted by Katy Regan at 11:51 on 3 Jul 2008

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So, I am back from the wilds of north Norfolk where I have braved the elements under canvas for three whole nights. I have withstood lashing rains, howling winds, cooked tea in an empty baked bean tin, built my own fire and survived on a diet of berries and fungi…

If you believe that, you’ll believe anything! In fact, I just spent three nights in what the hardcore camping set may well deem as veritable luxury: four-man tent for me, Egg and Fergus, self-inflating mattresses (although my smugness on purchasing these from Millets very quickly dissipated when I discovered they self-inflated to about two millimetres in thickness), full English breakfast cooked for me by one of our camping team (Egg’s school frends), cosy sleeping bags, bbqs fit for a king every night, booze-a-plenty and a 24-piece picnic set bought by me and Egg from Morrisons on day two when we realised that the fact we hadn’t even bought a cup was actually quite embarrassing.

Still, I fear, I may never be a camper. This is not an easy admission to make but I have come to the conclusion it is true.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful time. The company was brilliant, the weather was great. We woke up to one of those views of a wild, sweeping Norfolk beach that makes everything instantly alright with the world. Fergus had more little friends and space than he could shake a stick at - and he certainly did lots of that, roaming in the wild undergrowth that bordered the beach. So, the actual experience was great, but there’s just something about sleeping under canvas that I don’t think I will ever relish.

Main reasons being..

1. I have not got the hair for it. What with all that humidity and waking up sweaty with the sun blaring into your tent at 5am I spent the entire four days looking like Bobby Ball.

2. I’ll never enjoy not being able to fully stand when you first get out of bed. I am in a bad enough morning mood already, this can only make things worse

3. Brushing teeth and performing ablutions next to total strangers just seems a bit… I don’t know… icky.

4. Not being able to find anything, ever. I am afflicted enough with scattiness as it is. I need cupboards.

5. General inability and subsequent frustration that I am disabled on a practical level and even managed to lose the instructions for how to put up tent (my only job was to read them out).

6. Fact Egg does not help with the general ‘image’ of us being a ‘camping family’. He arrived with an enormous pully suitcase and a brand new spanking tent from Argos. (Well, at least he bought one which is more than I managed!)

There are always two sides to every story though and…
So here are things I LOVE about the camping.

1. Drinking copious amounts (with excuse you’re doing it outdoors so it must be healthy).

2. Eating copious amounts (ditto)

3. Not having to bother with make-up

4. Wearing a fleece that smells of bonfire smoke all day and night for four days and it being ok. (Am undecided on whether I love or hate this.)

5. The fact your kids can just roam and other people look after them...!

7. Waking up to nature (it’s just, I wished I looked more like the girl from the Timotei advert than a gypsy-BobbyBall-cross).


So there we are. There are my arguments for and against. I have decided that what I’ll do next year – because this is an annual meet-up – is that I shall just book into a B&B then just rock up for the breakfast/beach/booze bits – perfect! They may laugh, and they may mock, but I bet deep down they’ll be jealous!

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