I’m definitely what you’d call an extremely reluctant camper.
Tents strike me as a daft place to try and set up home, even if it’s only meant to be on a temporary basis.
Why would anyone want to swap a king size bed for an inflatable mattress on the floor?
Where’s the thrill in sleeping cheek-by-jowl in a field full of strangers who spend their night snoring and belching?
The only saving grace about camping is that it reaffirms your belief in the stoical powers of families.
Because just as you’ve finished arguing about the finer points of pitching a tent, you’re bound to hear another family debating where so-and-so can shove that pole, as they mutter ‘I hate camping’ through gritted teeth.