Some years back, I was involved with making a documentary about camping. The last time I tackled a tent was about aged ten, with the help of my brother aged eight, I remember it being so simple then. So, when a group of us set off to film a camp Site one weekend, we thought it would be quite a lark.

After work on the Friday, we collected the brand new tents loaned to us, loaded up all the filming gear, food etc. and set off. When I say it “rained” on the way down to the wilds of the New Forest, I mean “Monsoon,” with a touch of Typhoon thrown in.

It was pitch dark when we finally found the spot, no one about and deep in mud and cowpats. Faint orange shapes could be seen silhouetted against tent walls. As the shapes sank down and one by one and the lights went out in their cosy nests, we were left deserted in the drenched gloom as the gusts of wind buffeted us and the rain beat against our faces. “Can we spend the night in the cars?” someone asked. The gale seemed to strengthen, but the rain was ceasing, so we decided to pitch the tents. We dragged out the canvas bags, and with the aid of the car headlights, unpacked them. The contents consisted of lots of telescopic metal poles,

vast acres of canvas, ropes and pegs and mallets. None of it looked remotely like the tent of my youth, and we didn’t have a Boy Scout among us. The wind howled and tried to inflate the canvas, sending it off across the field. We slipped and slithered about and, I have to admit, swearing was the norm.

One group managed to erect their tent at last as the batteries ran down on the car headlights we all huddled inside, unpacked the little stove and brewed up, leaving the other tent in a crumpled heap until the morning. Two crew members slept in the cars; they refused to allow their precious equipment to spend the night in the tent.

Day dawned bright and sunny and we emerged stiff and bedraggled to find it was really a very nice camp site with, lo and behold, HOT SHOWERS. In daylight the erection of tent two was simplicity itself. The filming went well and there was a smashing Pub nearby.

Later, back at the club with one member of the crew suffering from a cold, we showed the rushes. All that was said by those that were not at the location was: “That was a good excuse for a nice relaxed weekend.”!

John Woolmer