8 hours ago
What I've learnt about other parents on the annual class camping trip
Ah, the class camping trip, one of those parts of modern life that didn't exist for centuries and is suddenly ubiquitous. These range from vast events in which schools take over whole campsites and lay on axe-throwing and humiliating talent contests to independent ones organised by mums and dads with varying degrees of success. The kids all know each other well, of course, and are used to rubbing along together, the odd Haribo-fuelled barney aside. The parents, though — that's where the sparks fly. You may chat amiably outside the school gates but what happens when you're wrestling guy ropes in a rain-lashed field near Tiptree?
All of human life is here, from the divorced dads who screech up in Porsches and blow half the food budget on wagyu steak, to the car-free couples who come via a train, two buses and an Uber, armed with just a pack of Co-op value veggie burgers. Some tents have bed linen and lighting fit for Claridge's; others have the post-apocalyptic vibe of a zombie hunters' camp in 28 Years Later. One spartan dad shrugged that he didn't need any kind of mattress — 'I like to feel the earth underneath me.'
