The campsite was booked in plenty of time, just before the rains started in May. The rain didn't subsequently stop until mid August. Unfortunately, we went camping in July. As we drove towards Dorset, the sound of the engine accompanied by the hammering of rain on the roof, himself tried to keep spirits up. Even the children were getting nervous. We arrived to find we had been allocated a pitch in 'the gloomy woods', the only part of the campsite that never saw sunlight which inevitably meant that the ground was even wetter here, if that were possible.

We sacrifice so much for our children, don't we? I hate camping and yet off we go every year as the children think it's such an adventure.

Fortunately, camping does not constitute our main, hard earned holiday each year. If the weather is looking reasonable, we might decide to load up the tent and take off to a campsite for the weekend. The unwritten rule in our house is that we will spend no more than three nights camping by which time I am longing for the comfort of the sofa, the bliss of not having to walk across muddy footpaths to share a toilet with strangers and the availability of luxuries such as electricity and brick walls.

This year, however, we camped for six nights, an experience that has left deep emotional scars that I fear will never heal. He who must be obeyed was booked into a football coaching course in Dorset and, not wanting to leave us for nearly a week, and not wanting to go to the expense of a hotel in high season, decided it would be fun for us all to go and stay at a campsite. When he mooted the idea, I could feel twinges of trepidation but I tried to suppress them when I saw the excitement on our offsprings' faces. Yippee, six nights camping.

We unpacked the tent and attempted to pitch it in record time before the entire interior became as wet as the sorry looking trees that surrounded us. Getting the tent pegs to stay in the ground proved tricky and we had to hope the wind didn't decide to pick up as we were in danger of losing what little protection we had.

Finally we were unpacked and I then set about the task of cooking a meal with our camping stove whilst balancing an umbrella on my shoulder. After practising with around 20 matches, the ring was lit and I just about managed to rustle up something warming. This we ate cowering in the doorway of the tent watching the ducks swimming around our car.

The next morning, hubby left us for his course and

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