Camping - You Don't Have to be Bonkers to do this, but it helps...

I'm not a natural camper.   The lack of running water, electricity, comfy seating and indoor toilets, cooking on a wobbly and frankly unsafe excuse for a cooker, well surely we've evolved haven't we?  Didn't we struggle like this in cavemen times?  So it comes as a little bit of a surprise that I am now staring at the most humungous tent sitting in my house.  How on earth did that happen?

Some friends of ours repeatedly asked us to go camping with them, and it became something of a running joke that I always said I was busy that weekend - even before I knew when they were going.  I could think of nothing worse than sitting in a damp and muddy farmer's field, tramping miles when you wanted the loo, cold and miserable and longing for the comfy sofa, warm living room and TV that you had left behind.  But then one day, my friend said they were going camping, and laughingly asked why didn't we go with them?  But this time, before I could give my stock response, she suggested that we just go over for the day, and not do anything quite so rash as actually camp.  I spoke to hubby about it and we thought that perhaps we should go, I mean we didn't want to appear rude. We liked our friends, it's just that we didn't like their leisure pursuit.

So, off we set for Anglesey, about an hour and a half away from our home. The skies were leaden grey (obviously), but we were relatively smug in the knowledge that we could come home as soon as politely feasible.  We could just show our faces for an hour or two then head off to the warmth of the nearest pub for lunch and come back to our snuggly beds. As we drove over the Menaii Straits via the Britannia Bridge, the clouds drifted away, the leaden skies were replaced with clear blue and the sun actually showed it's face . I started to feel any anxiety and stress ebb away.  I love Anglesey, it is where as a child we spent our family holidays.  There are glorious beaches and the island itself is a very unspoilt, uncommercialised haven. 

When we arrived in the car park of the community centre in the designated resort, we rang our friends and the hubby came to fetch us.  The campsite was a short drive - a few hundred yards really - and was quite literally a farmer's field filled with tents and touring caravans.  Our friends are very sociable people and other of their friends had joined them for the camping weekend, their tents forming a little community in a sheltered part of the site. Our son was immediately taken off by their son to explore and I was transported back to my childhood when we had spent our holidays on a remote caravan site on the island in static caravans, and how much we kids had loved it - the freedom, the adventure. Absolute heaven.  After an hour or so, the cars were loaded up with beach paraphinalea, kayaks, kites and the ubiquitous wind-breaks and we all decamped off to the almost deserted beach. It was incredibly windy and I didn't even unzip my coat never mind take it off, but I felt a deep sense of peace and happiness sitting there surrounded by happy kids doing what kids should do - not a DS or PS3 in sight, just sand, water, dunes and pebbles, making their own entertainment ALL day. We ate our picnic, and the boys were taken off in a massive Canadian canoe brought by one of the gang. There were big kites that could only be controlled if you had muscles like a weightlifter but hubby gamely had a go, and all in all we had a great time.  This was what life should be about.  When we finally decided to head back to the campsite, we were invited to stay for a BBQ. We bought basic stuff from the local mini supermaket and I can honestly say, I have never enjoyed a burger and sausage quite so much.  We headed back home after 9pm - much later than we had intended.  I was really glad though that we weren't camping. The temperature had plummeted and my cosy bed was calling.

We were subsequently persuaded to go and spend a night - our friends kindly said we could use their tent whilst two of them used a little two-man. I realise now they were breaking us in gently. 'Come over for the day'. 'Stay the night if you want'. Next stop - fully blown campers. We'd been converted.  We had 'found' Camping.

I was really keen. Keen that was if I could have a toilet, shower, a separate area for clothes - I couldn't cope with fumbling around in a bag to find a crumpled t-shirt - I wanted comfy seats, an awning to shelter from the wind, lights, heater - the works.  Although I had enjoyed our one night stay (and particularly the day before - dune jumping, kayaks, fun, even though it was cold), there was no room to stand up to get dressed, the toilets were a trek, I didn't fancy the showers - facilities were basic, and I had been cold and uncomfortable in the night, hardly sleeping as our mattress hadn't been inflated sufficiently.  I felt that if we had our own stuff, we would naturally have more room, we now knew to inflate the mattress more, and most of all, I felt our son would truly benefit from this lifestyle - we could pop off easily at weekends if the weather was good and we would all benefit from being outdoors more. I wanted us to get a kayak, to do more outdoorsy stuff. I felt it was important in our sons' development.  I started to look for a tent. Found a 12 man one which seemed to fit the bill - enough room for a separate dressing room, a room for a toilet!  We could take in paying guests!  Great. I discussed it with our friends but was disillusioned when I was told to be careful about getting a very large tent as it would be difficult to erect. I have since found out that large tents can incur a supplement for the pitch, and in some cases are not allowed at all.

Things then went off the boil a bit as winter set in and camping seemed a million miles away. That is until the Spring.  My previously suppressed camping gene started to get restless and I found myself browsing camping supplies sites on the internet once more.  Hubby and I visited a local camping store where they had a large outdoor display and we fell in love.  It was as if we were born to camp!  We eventually bought our tent and it arrived in two MASSIVE boxes. One of which needed a small crane to move it, it was so heavy.  Right, so we've got the tent, lets go!  Oh, hang on though, we still need:

• a cooker
• a stand to put it on
• cooking pots and utensils
• a large coolbox
• sleeping bags
• blow up mattresses
• table
• lighting
• heater
• a tent 'footprint' - necessary to put under the tent apparantly
• a pump
• comfy seats (essential)
• water carrier
• plastic wine glasses (also essential)

Now, how much is all this going to cost?  Another frantic search on the internet for the best prices - this as you may realise takes AGES. Hmm, not the cheap holiday option we had imagined.

It suddenly struck me that all this gear, plus four people and our luggage were not going to fit into our car. Aagghh.  'Husband' I yelled, 'I think we need a trailer, and that means we need a tow bar fitting'.

The cheap holiday option was turning into anything but. The amount of stuff you need, it's unbelievable, and where would we store it all?  I don't know if I can be bothered!  I then did a little search (it was meant to be a little search but as always on the internet two or three hours went by without me even noticing), to try and find a campsite for a couple of nights during the Easter holidays in the Lake District. But instead of the cheap £15 a night we were expecting, there was nothing less than £30 a night. Now I realise this isn't expensive, but you can get a Premier Inn for that price - all comfy beds and warm duvets, lovely (private) showers and toilets.  My husband and I looked at one another - 'have we made a massive mistake - is camping really for us?'.  The Easter holiday expedition was out - weather freezing and we didn't have all the gear, never mind a trailer to transport it all in.  It's the weather - Britain has such a rubbish climate.  We really, really want to do it, but not in freezing conditions and driving rain. We want to enjoy the great outdoors, but in this country, is it going to be viable for us?   The jury's out.  I will report back once we have made our maiden voyage.

Sound familar??

“The one thing children wear out faster than shoes, is parents” John J Plomp

Does this sound familiar?

Get up at the crack of dawn, and you’re out of the starting blocks on the sprint to get out of the front door on time. Quick shower, throw clothes on, run straighteners through hair, put on a bit of slap, go downstairs, get lunchboxes sorted, get breakfast things out, go and try to encourage child to get out of bed (might give em a little tickle… hope over experience). Time is ticking on at a rapid rate. You have to be out of the house for 8.30 at the latest otherwise the traffic has built up on the way to school, and you are going to end up being late . Try to encourage child to get out of bed. (might resort to gentle tug on their feet now), get their school clothes ready in an effort to keep the stress levels from rising. Try to entice them out by over-enthusing on how exciting their day is going to be, (might resort to a stern voice and a harder tug now)…RIGHT GET OUT OF BED NOWW!!! OK a little more than stern. Eventually they deign to exit their little pit and come down. Please don’t let them be awkward about breakfast there just isn’t time for awkward. Somehow, you manage to feed them, tidy away the breakfast things, wash and dress the little darlings, brush their teeth and hair, go through their spellings, get their bags together, coats and shoes on and out you go. Phew a huge sigh of relief once that front door closes. Stress starts to ebb away. There’s nothing that work can throw at you to rival this for pressure and stress!
You drop them off at school, sprint back to the car, and set off to work. You do a full day’s work then come home. The marathon continues, as you prepare a meal, ask distracted kids about their day, run to the fridge to service their demand for drinks and snacks, prepare tomorrows sandwiches, go through homework, run the hoover round, maybe flash the mop over, clean the toilets...spend two or three hours trying to persuade the little darlings that their day is over and it is time for bed, read story, tidy kitchen before you eventaully collapse on the sofa and watch something mind numbing that you’ve SkyPlussed, barely able to keep your eyes open, never mind indulge in meaningful conversation with your partner. You crawl up to bed only to wake a few short hours later for it all to start again. Ahh, the life of the busy Mum, or is it just me?
However organised you are, being a Mum is a very difficult, time consuming, stress inducing, full-on 24 hour a day, 365 day a year absolute pleasure. Children give you things you didn’t know you were lacking, they enliven you and reinvigorate you, they make you re-evaluate everything, they make you question almost every action you take, and they make you deeply, deeply happy. Modern life though, does sometimes make you feel as though you are constantly in some kind of pressure cooker, on a long distance sprint, with no time to come up for air and live a little, leaving very little space to spend time with your kids, not necessarily doing stuff, just spending time in each others company. Some parents fill their littlies lives with so many activities that the kids have very little time to just be and use their imaginations, playing like children should. It’s as if we impose the characteristics of our lives onto theirs, as if their lives have to be filled every single minute otherwise they are missing out. Of course, everything in my little description of an average day need to be done; children will always be challenging; most people have to do some kind of work, not many of us have the luxury of staff to carry out the mundane stuff for us. Wouldn’t that be great? I often daydream about winning the lottery, first thing I‘d get? A housekeeper of course! Someone to do all the cleaning, ironing, even the daily cooking, make the sandwiches for lunch, and battle round Tescos to do the shopping…..a no brainer for me....the freedom that would bring would be so liberating.... Michael Caine once said that money doesn’t buy happiness but it does bring you freedom. Here, here to freedom. It’s unattainable of course, so we mere mortals have to make the most of what we have got and try to minimise the stress, reduce the time spent doing the chores, and somehow make time for leisure and pleasure with no guilt and no reduction in standards! It’s hard and you have to be very self-disciplined. Years ago, when Women’s Lib was all the go, it was bandied about that women could have it all. The successful career, several children, fabulous marriage, social life a-go-go, exotic holidays, pristine home, you name it and we were damn-well going to have it. I think nowadays we have been disavowed of this fantasy due to the fact that you actually can’t have it all, it was all utterly rubbish, to have it all you need an awful lot of help or something has to give. The average woman - and I’m not talking here of the successful London-based career woman earning a humungous salary for she is not very representative of the millions of women in this country - no, the average woman has to work in very often mind-numbing jobs that fit in with the children (think call centres, care homes, supermarket checkouts), has to do all the household chores, has to do the shopping, has to organise the kids, sort out the holidays, make sure there are clean clothes (ironing according to preference - I’m lumbered with being an ironer sadly) and it is a full on, full time job. Some may have parents who willingly help out looking after the children, others are not so fortunate - either parents are not able because of age or other reasons, or they may not live nearby. Some of us will also have to fit in looking after elderly parents. It is difficult therefore to find time for yourself and a) not feel guilty, or b) not let your standards slip. And I don’t know about you but if you put off cleaning the bathroom, it will still be there, looking at you accusingly the next day, when you then have to add it to that day’s chores.
Weekend arrives, and wouldn’t it be lovely to swan off to the Lakes for the weekend, lovely walk, snuggle up in a country pub in front of the log fire, dine in a Michelin starred restaurant…just the two of you!!…..but not for you, oh no, life continues at the same break neck speed. One child has to go to football, the other is going swimming, hubby is off playing golf, leaving you with the role of General Dogsbody ferrying everyone around and being treated as though you barely exist, and glared at if the correct attire hasn’t been laundered.
Sunday and you are now expected to become the hostess with the mostess as mother in law is coming for dinner and expecting a Sunday roast with perfect gravy. On top of this you need to get the cleaning done, make meals for the following week and shove in the freezer, do the shopping, visit your mother, get uniforms ready and make sure homework is done. Who said this is a rest day? Then husband asks why we STILL haven’t got a blind on the bathroom window, why we STILL haven’t got the holiday booked, why he never has any clean underpants in his drawer, and sarcastically asks if there’s any possibility we could spend a little bit of time together as a family this weekend. You feel murderous tendencies and start to fantasise about how great life in prison would be - but then your little one runs up to you, wraps their arms around you, gives you a massive hug and tells you they love you and you just know that nothing, absolutely nothing in the entire world, is better than this, and you feel that you might actually have it all afterall!