After many years of [insert non-sexist politically correct synonym for ‘nagging’ here] from the Mrs I have finally given in and agreed to go camping. The other week we bought a 2-bedroom tent, complete with airbeds and sleeping bags, and maybe next week we will take it down to Dorset for a few days.

I like the idea of camping in the American sense of going off hiking through the wilderness with all the bare essentials strapped to your back, and pitching the tent wherever you end up in the evening. Whether I would enjoy it or not, the whole back-to-nature concept is appealing.

I’m not so sure about the British campsite version though – parking the car and setting the tent up in its allocated pitch in a row of tents. Its even worse when this involves folding tables, portable TV, barbecues, multi-ring gas stoves, lights, inflatable wardrobes and whatever. To me it seems pretty obvious that if you really can’t do without all the comforts of home you really should just stay at home. (The same goes for taking PG Tips on holiday because “you just can’t get a decent cuppa abroad”). I am deliberately not doing a trolley dash in Milletts to collect all the accessories, just in case it turns out that we hate it and never go again, and the camping gear joins the unused golf clubs in the loft.

I will get myself an OS map though. I like maps.

Having got myself in a positive mood about it all there is nothing left but to count the days and start praying for rain 🙂