Facing your fears is never easy, I knew that. I expected tears, I expected to feel frustrated, I anticipated anxiety.
I was right on all levels.
But what I didn’t expect and what I got was 100% success.
As of Saturday I became a proficient tent putter upper.
I did it all on my own.
The three children and I arrived at Sportsfest2014 at 8am and I could see instantly that they were going to be little help. Owen was too excited about the day and was like a rubber ball bouncing around the field. Molly was firmly holding onto her crutches with a pained expression on her face.
And Libby-Sue?
Well she arrived on the field, opened up her fold up chair, popped a box of loom bands on her knees and declared herself busy for the foreseeable future.
I was on my own.
Just me and the Vango tent.
Woman verses canvas.
Around me seasoned campers were flinging up their tents at a speed of light. I lingered nervously, hesitant to even pull the zipper on the green bag.
The clock ticked, and the children started to grow tetchy.
“C’mon mum, just do it,” called my son and he bounced over and hooked the zip and yanked the bag open.
Out spilled a tent, a couple of metal hooks, and some bits of canvas that I didn’t quite yet see their purpose.
A quick glance of the instructions told me that erecting the tent would take 10 minutes…
I don’t think the manufacturers quite realised my level of inexperience when they cited a 10 minute set up.
I’ll be honest, it took me 10 minutes to unravel the tent, lay out the pegs and pace the field with a furrowed brow for a while.
Then I began…
I glanced at the instructions but decided the process would be far easier if I ignored them.
Possibly not my best move.
The tent poles were simple, three in total, and they took seconds to insert. The next thirty minutes were spent trying to insert tiny black pegs that were fasten to the tent into the ground to secure the pegs.
I said words in my head that would have made my mother faint and I said words out loud that my children really should not have been privy to.
Getting these tiny black pegs into the ground after looping around the tent poles was insanely hard.
As I struggled and swore, Owen started to beg for my attention.
“Mum,” he said,
“Not now son, I am just trying to get the sodding black thing into the ground.”
“But, mum..” He continued, and I shot him the look.
He backed away with a curious smile.
I struggled on, and around me tents were erected without the blood, sweat and tears I was shedding.
For twenty minutes I hated the tent and felt sure I was never going to create a home under the stars for my children to sleep in.
I was a failure, a camping idiot, I should have stayed at home.
Owen appeared at my side,
“Mum,” he said.
Exasperated I threw the pole to the ground, and turned to him.
I sighed, it was a beaten sigh,
“What Owen?” I asked.
He held out a crumpled piece of paper and pointed with a finger.
“The instructions say the little black pegs go inside the tent poles. Not in the ground like you are trying to do, you use the big silver ones for that…”
I am going to claim all the glory for getting the tent up, but I have to confess, if it were not for Owen I would probably still be standing in the field.
Who would have thought instructions would be so handy.
With the dilemma of the tiny black pegs solved, and instructions read and digested, the tent suddenly grew before my eyes. Within minutes I had single handly birthed a canvas home, with a bit of help from the eight year olds.
It was easy. Three tent poles, a handful of pegs, a simple interior to hang inside and suddenly our home was established.
It was beautiful.
And flipping spacious.
With room in the bedroom for five airbeds, and a fantastic living area which housed our copious amount of stuff, the tent was perfect for our needs.
Later that day the rain hammered down and we all stayed dry, when the sun baked our skin the following morning the tent remained cool.
I could almost get used to this camping lark.
Of course I had been warned that the real skill of camping was getting the tent back in the bag.
20 minutes people!
That is all it took, does that make me a camping pro?
I have always swore that a bad workman always blames their tools. Now I am a firm believer that the right tent can make anyone a camper.
For those, like me, who need it to be as easier as possible and like a bit of space in their tents, then you need to check out the Vango 5 man tent, or see what else is on offer from Millets.
Huge thanks to Millets who kindly offered it as a review item to help me overcome my camping fear.
I think it has worked – I have spent the day googling campsites in France!
I am a camping convert.