More Charity

CHAPTER 4 – An Intense Experience


“Look. The blue pole goes through the blue loops, the red pole goes through the red loops. Just look at the picture, it’s really straightforward.”

It’s like those phrases you got at school, like “maths can be fun”. Camping. I’m still not sure how it happened, how we ended up in this field cramped inside this family-sized tent, having fun. And it is fun. It is fun. It is fun. (How many times you think I’ll have to say that before it becomes true. There are a few things I’d consider less fun than camping and I’m reasonably sure that if you gave me till, say, next month I’d be able to think of them. Given the choice, I think I’d rather spend a week in Asda. Well, why not? It’s dry, there’s a café there, a toilet… what more?

“All our friends are going camping, c’mon on, it’ll be fun,” they said.
Oh, I don’t think so. Listen, let me get this done and then we’ll go to Greece or something”.

Sometimes I get this mental image. I say some words and, as they’re leaving my mouth, they turn round and give me a kind of a look, a shrug that says “I don’t know why you bothered saying me. No one’s listening.” And they float off and do something more interesting.

Mostly it’s the kids. It’s a curious thing, but when I was younger I really didn’t notice them. I got on with my life, it got on with me and I really didn’t notice anyone under about 4ft tall. Looking back now, it seems barely credible but it’s true. They must have been there, must have been there somewhere. I don’t know. Maybe it helped that during most of my teens and Twenties I was largely nocturnal, fearful that if I strayed into daylight I might find myself with a Volvo V70 estate with airbags on the SIPS and seats in the boot.

Now they’re everywhere. Everywhere. Mostly where they are is standing next to me, yabbering away in my ear like a couple of mosquitos. I’ve got a book to finish – well, OK, a book to start – and a freelance piece to write. Top Ten Places To Take A Last Minute Holiday. Really, is there anything worse than sitting at home looking out of the window when the sun’s shining writing about places to take a holiday? Just as I was thinking “is there anything worse than…” I heard one of the mozzies.

“Camping” it said. “Let’s go camping.”
Camping? What is it with camping? Have we been living in Kemp Town too long? (OK, it’s a crap gag but it’s about as good as you’re going to get).
“All our friends are going camping, c’mon on.”
“No telly” I said, in hope more than anything real. “No DVDs, nothing”.
“We can take your laptop”.
“The battery will run out”.
“You can charge it in the car”.
“It might rain. We’ll get wet and cold and there’ll be nothing to do”.
“Whatever”.

As I turned around and saw my words shrugging off into the distance, I knew what I had to do.
“Number 10. And if you feel like having a holiday closer to home, why not try camping?”