The Happy Campers

Camping

I wanna go camping. All the cool girls are doing it. Its cheap and cheerful and silly and more than anything I just love the idea of shredding all my home comforts and facing the scrumptious little decorating challenge that is a tent...mmm, paisley eiderdowns, lacy tablecloths flung over the tent opening to  shade your eyes, flowery bunting, dancing barefoot in the light of lanterns strung from tree to tree and oodles of cosy cushions...gingham picnic baskets, tin mugs, yummy mummies in short frilly skirts, naked babies, dirty knees, spotty wellys and cute babba's in red indian  headdresses...

But the thought of things crawling on me  and eating out of tin-cans (There is the bestest recipe for make-do hummous in a can, in the book!) gives me the heebie jeebies. And thats before I've even considered the whole toilet and lets be at one with nature side of things...

Am I wimp? Oh without a doubt, and the really crazy thing is that Finn and I would  probably love it...

But if anyone can convince me, these girls  can.

So maybe I'll go throw a pretty quilt over the washing line and have a practise, or order a Cath Kidston tent and ask Mum if I can pitch it in her back garden, so I can scream for my Daddy if I run into trouble or feel the urge for a proper cup of tea. In a Denby cup please.

Anyone wanna join me for camping scaredy cat style?

(Note to self: Grow some guts.)