THE dreaded annual camping trip with my sister and our daughters is looming.
It’s come round so quickly, the trauma of last year barely seems to have receded. It feels like only yesterday I was wrestling with an enormous groundsheet, cursing a blow-up mattress that in no way was meant to cope with me and two children, and traipsing back from the washing-up area for the 50th time.
But the kids are so excited I can’t disappoint them. It rained last time. The kind of rain that seeps into your bones never mind your so-called waterproof jacket that you’ve just bought at a knockdown price, which is when you realise why it was such a bargain.
Still, it might not rain – only 85 per cent probability at the moment – I’m also going to try a fold-out bed (provided I can work out how to use it) and I’m going to pack some of those cute little cans of ready made gin and tonics. Quite a lot of them probably.