I HATE camping. Well, perhaps not hate, but if it’s a choice between lying on
cold, stony ground with a force 8 gale blowing three feet above my head with
only a tin of beans to keep me going, and an aromatherapy bath with some
chilled Chilean rosé to hand, I know which I’d choose.
This strong dislike for canvas was brought about by a merciless — though
character-building, I’m told — childhood, in which every holiday involved
heaving my laden rucksack up some godforsaken mountain or other, from the
Cairngorms to the Alps and even the Himalayas, wearing hideous clothes and a
sweaty grimace, before pitching up, come midges, wind or rain, for another
terrible night’s sleep at a 45-degree angle.
I have done camping, my ground sheet has been hung up for good, and I now
choose the pampered, more stylish life, thanks very much.
At least, I did. Unfortunately, having kids means repeating the tortuous cycle
all over again, except that now I have to pretend to like braving the wild
outdoors, while my miserable kids drag themselves along behind, building
their characters, and wishing they could be watching telly or beating up the
kids next door.
Or so I imagined. As it turned out, I was the only member of my family whose
face fell at the mere mention of our first family camping trip this summer.
Everyone else (The Husband and The Three Children aged 7, 5, and 2) was
deliriously excited about the idea, and couldn’t start peg-bashing fast
enough. Drat.
I tried gentle dissuasion (we can’t take any games or books) and downright
lies (there are wolves and snakes), but it was only when my five-year-old
came out with “Oh come on Mummy — you’ll love it when you get there”, that I
finally relented: camping was on the cards, style and comfort or not.
But hang on — why not? Why can’t camping be stylish? Why can’t a girl bring a
glass of wine and something fashionable with her into the hills? If Kate
Moss can look divine at Glastonbury, surely I could bring some glam to the
Glens? “Not likely,” was The Husband’s reaction to this suggestion, and it
sounded like a challenge to me.
Stage one was acquiring some stylish camping gear, and my first port of call
was Millets, to arm myself with a flowery Cath Kidston tent and matching
sleeping bag. This had an immediately uplifting effect, making me suddenly
very enthusiastic about our expedition — though this may have been more due
to the “purchasing something pretty” aspect than the imminent camping it
implied. Some elegant-ish plastic crockery, an inflatable pillow and an
almost-fashionable wind-proof jacket, and I was all set.
Stage two was packing my new, groovy rucksack. Being a lady who likes to be
prepared for all eventualities, this took a ridiculously long time. The
Husband finished stuffing his weatherbeaten bag with whatever came to hand
in about ten minutes, which left me very miffed, as he sat down in front of Extras
and I decanted bottles of facial wash and filled tiny jars with vinaigrette
and seasoning. Other essentials included a glossy magazine, a wine glass,
ready-prepared chicken satay sticks, and cashmere socks. Good to go.
Stage three, The Camping Trip, started very well. Although we were silly
enough to bring a buggy for The Little One — which turned out to be
not-quite-as-cross-terrain-as-all-that — we made it up and over a very
sizeable, rocky hill on the Isle of Skye. Then we dropped down to the grassy
— and free for campers — Camasunary Bay below. No moaning, no squabbles, and
no style-withdrawal thanks to the pretty tent bag over my shoulder.
Pitching the tent was another matter, and I wished I hadn’t been so cocky
about not needing to read the instructions. The wind was very strong, and I
managed to push the frame through the wrong holes twice, before getting The
Husband (who was staying in another tent with the children) to help me.
It looked fantastic and the inside felt palatial relative to the two-man
cocoon I was used to, with handy pockets for my essential beauty stash.
Sneaking a moment’s rest from the shell-collecting outside, I lay on my pop-up
bed, wrapped up in my beautiful, well-padded sleeping bag, and gazed out at
the sea and the distant Inner Hebrides. Cosy, stylish camping indeed.
We were all starving after so much walking, so I lit my new camping stove and
opened vast numbers of tins for the troops, using my pink Swiss Army knife.
My chicken had gone off during the long walk in the sun, and I gazed
longingly at The Children’s sausages, baked beans and instant mash as I
munched on some wholly unsatisfying, though stylishly presented, mixed salad
and olive bread. The Husband was good enough to spare a sausage, but not
without a “what are you like?” eye-roll.
He wasn’t so smug an hour later when all of my attempts at glam-camping paid
off. I sat in the gentle evening sunshine with my (chilled by the river)
glass of rosé (yes that’s me on the cover). Time stood still. The Husband
admitted defeat. After a cup of hot peppermint tea and a flick through Vogue,
I knew I had done it.
Yes, there was the odd midge flying about and yes, I would have quite liked a
hot bath. But I was camping, and I really didn’t hate it at all.
Liz Fraser’s book, The Yummy Mummy’s Survival
Guide: How to put the Mmmmm back into Motherhood is published by
HarperCollins in March 2006.
Not one for roughing it? Try these for size
IN THE BOUDOIR
First it was nostalgic kitchenware, now Cath Kidston has really stolen the
march on pretty and practical camping kit. Try the floral tent (£60),
a delight to look at and one of the few that is high enough to get dressed
in without shuffling along the ground. Style does not compromise the
function of the sleeping bag (£29.99) either — the bag is
warm and has a neat pocket at the top to insert a pillow. The fold-down girl’
s chair (£4.99) is based on those collapsible canvas chairs loved
by our grannies, but a lot prettier. The compact camp bed (£35)
folds away neatly and is very light.
All are from Cath Kidston direct (020-7229 8000, www.cathkidston.co.uk). Tent,
chair and compact bed also available from Millets shops (01293 852853,
www.millets.co.uk).
A luxurious double AeroBed (£140) is a must for happy campers
who cannot bear to be parted from each other. Available from John Lewis
(0845 6049049, www.johnlewis.com).
ARTFUL ACCESSORIES
Pink Swiss Army knife (£14.99) complete with tweezers and a
nail file, and £1 from every one sold goes to raise money for breast cancer
research. Available from Blacks (0800 214890, www.blacks.co.uk).
Stormlite hip flask (£4.99), in case it all gets too much
along the way. From Field and Trek (0870 7771071, www.fieldandtrek.com).
Capilene boy shorts (£12) streamlined underwear that moves
with you, doesn’t bunch up and dries in a flash. Choose from several colours
and styles, from Patagonia (www.patagonia.com).
Other stockists: Cotswold Outdoor (0870 442 7755,
www.cotswoldoutdoor.com). Good for specialist climbing gear, and camping
gear.
Snow and Rock (0845 1001000, www.snowandrock.com), one of the most stylish
places to look, with a fantastic online store.
