A pop-up tent, 34 kids and a couple of bottles of sloe gin

October 28, 2009

I would never have believed it. Moi, the Catwalk Queen herself, fully hardened townie, off on a mummies and kiddies camping night in the depths of the Sussex countryside.  Brought on by a moment of Earth Mother weakness in the playground, I had been enticed into parting with my mattress, hair-dryer and Jo Malone bubble-bath, oh and darling husband, to spend one night and one night only in a field on the edge of the Ashdown Forest with 14 mothers and 34 children.

It’ll be a laugh I thought, getting close to nature, bonding with my offspring, all the girls around the camp fire chewing the cud. So one rainy July morning I found myself wondering why I had spent £70 on sleeping bags, roll mats and citronella candles and was making home-made sushi – well what else would you eat alfresco – and packing my incense sticks for a night of girlie hippy heaven. Back in the real world……my one night camping experience taught me some solid ground rules – excuse the pun – which I feel duty bound to share.

Rule Number One. Familiarise yourself with your equipment before venturing out. Do not rely upon your husband to check it for you. Having arrived at the pitch with a car stuffed fit to bursting, I then proceeded to gaze at a pancake of nylon that refused to pop up as instructed, followed by the dawning realisation that there was an essential ingredient missing; the poles. A slightly ear-bashed hubby then made a dash to Lidl on the way home to purchase a brand new idiot proof pop-up tent and promptly drove it over. This did cause some consternation amongst my fellow campers in that I had broken the ‘No Men Allowed’ Rule, although he was only on the premises for 10 minutes. But as far as I’m concerned feminism can draw a line at tent erection. Another novice camper arrived with a freshly bought kit which included sleeping bags, roll mats and oh… no tent. She made a quick dash back to whence she had came to complete the set!

Second Rule. Do not go camping directly after collecting your child from a birthday party. Unbeknownst to me we had acquired three pots of poster paint in a goodie bag. One of these said pots provoked a state of flux when a group of 3 year olds turned up for their tea with spiked blue hair. Please bear in mind we were two fields away from running water. Needless to say my name was mud – oh another pun!

Third Rule. Do not assume that children will adhere to normal bed time when camping. Given fresh air, tents and torches small children who are normally tucked up in bed by 6:30pm are still partying at midnight. Hence the girlies around the camp fire thing is difficult to achieve when your toddler might be heading in the dead of night to the pond in the next door field.

Fourth Rule. Respect your fellow European campers, as they were very polite to us when we were asked to shut up and stop ruining their holiday.

Fifth Rule. Take vast quantities of Sloe Gin. We only had 2 bottles. Apart from my industrial sized citronella candles, it was about the only thing we had to keep warm. My great mate who brews the stuff had certainly underestimated demand. We had had adequate alcoholic refreshment earlier on the evening – after our assembly line disposable BBQ feast – but its amazing how quickly it disappears.

Sixth Rule. Use the conveniences provided, even if they are a half a mile hike in the dark. Do not relieve yourself behind your mate’s car. You will get caught.

Seventh Rule. Take Earplugs. I was as snug as a bug in a rug in my super Everest-proof sleeping bag. I was sharing with the one of my boys that doesn’t snore, and after a couple of Sloes I should have been in for a very comfortable night. The one thing I hadn’t banked on was noise; girlies confiding secrets into the early hours (too fascinating to fall asleep), children crying, crickets chirping, lorries seeming to hurtle through the middle of the tent (we were practically on top of a road) – its all magnified a hundred fold when you are lying that close to mother earth in a dark Sussex field. As the morning sun rose at about 5am, along with the most of the kids, there hardly seemed much point in continuing to fain sleep.

Eighth Rule. Do not take a pop-up tent (back to equipment I’m afraid). They do not fold back as simply as instructed and are as such a nightmare to get back into their bags, therefore having to be placed in the boot of car still fully erected for the journey home – not ideal.

You may by now be sensing a little negativity here. But I jest. All in all we had a laugh and would do it again. Some hardened lunatics, sorry I mean campers, even stayed on an extra night. Not for me though. My soft duvet was beckoning and so after a fish and chip supper that’s exactly were I ended up, at 8:30pm. Leaving the fight with the pop-up in the car to a new day.

by Mary Lou Burge

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