Will there be decent coffee?

Fam Fibro is preparing for its first tentative steps into the wild. Our first camping trip. In a place where there are no amenities, no mobile phone reception, and, assumingly, no cafes serving skim lattes. With one sugar. Takeaway, thanks.

Dear God, what am I doing?

The last time I slept in a tent, it had something to do with a New Year’s Eve party at my sister’s house. Or Christmas maybe? The details are blurred. The Builder pitched our tent on the lawn and, for some reason, we placed our sleeping bags and pillows at the wrong end. We slept on a downhill slant all night, the blood racing merrily to our heads, our toes clinging to the ends of the sleeping bag in the vain hope that we would not slide down into a corner by morning. The hangover, when she came, was not pretty.

Dear God, what am I doing?

This time, we are going camping with two other families from school. The boys will love it. Love. It. That’s what I keep telling myself.

One of the families has enough gear to outfit the rest of us. They are very good hosts. They tell us that they’re very keen to have friends to go camping with. Apparently, this means you have to have enough gear to tempt non-campers into the wild. They have shower tents and toilet tents and kitchen tents – and they don’t mix any of those three up. They know what they’re doing. That’s what I keep telling myself.

We have lists of things to pack. Eggs and bacon and rolls. Cereal, snacks, fruit. Barbecue stuff. Wine (asterisked with *lots of next to it). Instant coffee. “Maybe we could take the plunger?” I venture to The Builder. Who scoffs. Apparently one doesn’t plunge when one is a camper. One drinks instant. And likes it. Fresh air makes everything taste better.

Dear God, what am I doing?

Wish us luck.

Is yours a family of campers? Any tips for newbies like us?

[image: If only I were just eating camping cookies such as these from The Treat Garden]