Loitering within tent

I would, as a child, insist on sleeping in my sleeping bag upon a return home from a Scout camp.

This was on reflection perhaps a little similar to the period of acclimatisation that troops go through after serving a tour of duty in a combat zone. It was quite an illogical thing to do but a way of remembering what a great time was had on a camping trip whether it was well away from home, in North Wales, Derbyshire, The Lake District or just up the road at the District Camp Site.

The sleeping bag, a large bulky and lumpy thing of indeterminate filling, not really designed or specified to be anywhere near the open air would be, after a few days or a week of camping, damp to the point of being clammy, smelly from wood smoke and the detritus of many midnight feasts and very, very grubby from being dragged here and there across the site. That was the attraction of living in it for a few more days even amongst the comforts of home and with a dry, fragrant and clean bed temptingly close by.

I would of course also sleep in the sleeping bag on the hard, although carpeted floor for authenticity and to recreate the whole camping experience. This was difficult in a bedroom where I shared with my younger brother and involved being wedged down in the narrow clearance between our respective single beds.

The rest of my family would keep their distance upon my return from a camping trip. Partly because I smelt bad and partly because they knew that I had to go through this ritual behaviour for a few days. Gradually I would impart the stories and facts of the trip even though I wanted to keep them to myself and savour every moment of wild and largely unsupervised outdoor living.

I was fortunate to be part of a very activity minded Scout Group and in retrospect that was entirely due to the hard work and commitment of our leaders, who got us involved in canoeing, sailing, hiking and all the true boys own stuff that would today be regarded as hazardous and uninsurable in public liability terms.

Being trusted to keep safe and have responsibility for others was a weighty thing on a teenager but constituted one of the most character forming influences in my life and for that I am very grateful. We did, individually and collectively put ourselves in harms way on many occasions but the common sense and forward thinking that had been instilled in us served to bring us through some potentially dangerous situations. These included capsising in a yacht on Coniston Water, having to dig an emergency trench around the six man tent to avoid being washed away in a flash flood storm and not being caught by the staff of a Department Store in Sheffield when using their facilities for a welcome wash and brush up during the free day of a particularly wet and cold summer camp.

I recall it now as being a great time in my life. It may not have always been as idyllic as I now perceive it to have been. I was frequently homesick. I was usually in charge of cooking for my tent and they experienced some quite ambitious attempts at meals on a wood fire in a large metal dixie can and involving cider which ended disastrously and we had to survive on bread and jam sandwiches. We were regularly struck down with sickness and diarrhoea for a few days. It was a time of having to live in damp clothes and sleep in a damp sleeping bag and under canvas of pre-war origin and almost transparent from wear and tear.

It was still , however, the best experience in the world.