Veronica Simpson thought nothing would tempt her to venture out into campsite chaos once her kids were born. Three camping trips later and she’s a willing convert.
As a parent of young kids, nothing was going to tempt me into a tent. It wasn’t just the childhood memories of drafty nights under canvas in the Scottish drizzle, and endless days playing Cheat and Patience while the wind whistled through the Trossachs. My chief phobia was sleep-deprivation – after years of soothing wakeful infants why on earth would I abandon the comfort of a decent bed and a thick duvet once they started sleeping through?
Camping convert
But it was my misfortune/good luck to be married to a man whose seemingly solid veneer of urban sophisticate is slowly being worn away by parenting to reveal the inner boy scout. Slowly he wore away at my resistance. Technology, he assured me, had come on in leaps and bounds. At every opportunity he showed me pictures of self-inflating mattresses that could compete for comfort with a night at the Savoy (allegedly).
Once I’d bought him a Maglite torch for his birthday – at his request – he considered the idea officially green-lit. After several nights poring over catalogues and camping guides, he was off to purchase luxury sleeping mats, super-warm sleeping bags and the best designed tent he could find – and all for less than the cost of a night for two at some swanky boutique hotel.
Fortunately, I’m also blessed with the kind of friends who were willing to undergo our inaugural camping trip together – if I was going to volunteer to be wet, cold, tired and miserable, I was determined to do so in good company!
Taking the plunge
So it was that four couples from Peckham went camping in East Sussex, with seven children between them aged between three and seven years old. We chose a campsite near Bodiam Castle that was near enough – a mere hour or so’s drive away – for us to retreat back to London if the going was too rough, and one of the few that allows real fires, for the full-on camping experience.
Joy of joys, when we got there we found there was a huge hay barn that had been adapted as a play area for kids, with giant slide, rope swing and seesaw. For the first couple of hours we hardly saw the kids, as we struck camp. And their excitement levels remained high as they explored the area and trampled over each others’ newly arranged sleeping quarters. The novelty of eating spaghetti bolognese (pre-prepared by one genius pal) out of plastic dishes, followed by marshmallow-roasting on the open fire kept their enthusiasm at a peak; and the thrill of playing “light sabres” with torches at twilight was such that it was almost impossible to wrestle them into bed until well after dark (around 10.30pm).
Dawn chorus
Inevitably, the three-year-old woke up at the crack of dawn (just after 5am), shrieking with excitement at finding himself under canvas, and quickly rousing the rest of them with the novelty and joy of it all. Suddenly, staying up til midnight drinking wine, chatting and staring into the embers didn’t seem such a good idea to us adults. But with the benefit of decent weather, camp life can proceed slowly. A leisurely amble to the nearby castle, a pub lunch along the way, tea and cakes on our return and more happy countryside capers for the kids followed. We all slept well that night, and though we woke to a fine drizzle the next day, there were enough grownups around to take the kids on a short walk through the meadows, leaving the rest (yes, alright, mainly the men) to break camp undisturbed. Camping with friends has much to recommend it.
We’ve since been for two more camping weekends, one in driving rain in Somerset, the other in a peaceful seaside resort in Essex. And all for next to nothing. We are, without exception, genuinely looking forward to repeating the experience this summer.
Oh, and Phil was right. Those luxury self-inflating sleeping mats really are comfortable. Though I wouldn’t mind him booking that night at the Savoy so that I can compare...
