The kids are off to camp on Wednesday. In the meantime my office is their storeroom. The floor is littered with rucksacks, sleeping bags, tents, fleeces, billy cans, waterproofs, suncreams, walking boots and a huge pile of faux designer clothing. This belongs to my eldest. Who hones in on boys like a heat-seeking missile. She can't be seen traversing the Yorkshire cowpats actually looking like a camper. So half of Top Shop has been amassed. I have successfully vetoed the lined broderie anglais coat. But the white sneakers have sneaked through. This for a camp so basic, they pooh in a hand-dug lat. Emptying a large suitcase to accommodate her excess baggage, I came across some detritus from my own travels. Last year's abortive romancing in Laos. The Mekong is beautiful this time of year... Tomorrow we are dog-sitting. And my German sister-in-law, ex, arrives with two children in tow. Who are also going to camp. A woman with a heart of pure gold and a tongue of sharpened steel, she once bemoaned the lack of good daytime telly. "All they show is stupid war films, always making out the Germans are the baddies." Her Jewish husband nearly swallowed his spoon at this. His family, puce but ever gracious, moved the conversation swiftly on. Happy days:-)