Camping it up

As good ideas go, maybe this wasn't. It remains to be seen. There is a bit of pre-holiday excitement building up but for me and Mr M it is definitely tempered by a sense of foreboding.

We are going camping. In August (usual season of typhoons, floods and other biblical plagues). With a total of six children and one dog. Granted there will be six adults, and not just any old adults but the ex-door neighbours and their eldest daughter and son-in-law, so good times are guaranteed. But still. My friend K and I are making increasingly anxious phone calls to each other about the logistics, I have emailed the campsite and double checked that we can use wind breaks and a gazebo around our tents. They have agreed but whether our planned stockade will be frowned upon is another unknown.

The campsite has a 10.30pm curfew, which is exactly what we want. Having been camping in places where people find it amusing to play music and shout and holler into the small hours I have a deep-seated loathing of noisy campsites. But Eva's current sleeping habits make me worry that we will be turned off the field, a noise abatement notice pasted to the side of our tent after a night or two of her waking up and yelling every couple of hours.

I have a love-hate relationship with camping holidays. In theory, I love them. I suspect that in practice I mostly love them too. Just in the days and weeks immediately beforehand I get decidedly cheesed off with the whole prospect. Insecure accommodation and escaping children - eek. No electricity - and no internet - pah. Twenty minutes to make a cup of coffee which you have to drink from a plastic mug - meh.

My first brush with camping came courtesy of the BBC's "Holiday" programme, which showed a sunny paradise that was camping in Norway. My parents and our cousins felt that this would be a good wheeze so off we went. To be fair I think we enjoyed it; by "we" I mean the four children. I know the adults were less enthralled to the point that my cousins' family bailed out after one too many nights of tinned meatballs and sheeting rain and went home. We spent the last night or two in a hotel. After a respectful interval the gigantic frame tent was sold and it was Never Spoken Of Again.

I think the next outing for me was a Guide camp, complete with trying to cook over an open fire (we had sandwiches) and about as much fun as a gang of pre-adolescent girls under canvas sounds, complete with bitchiness, tantrums, hormones and all.

So, what will this trip bring? Who knows. We are preparing for the worst, with a car full of wellies, umbrellas, colouring books and an ipod loaded up with Maisy Mouse and Peppa Pig episodes. Secretly hoping for the best. We'll see.