Please I'm not a camper

'You need to be at school for the camp at 6 o'clock.' 'The what?' 'My school camp.' Hhon you know I don't do camping' Long pause, face starts to pucker. "okay, I'll do the camp, although I'm sure I didn't sign anything to say I would..." I don't get there until the kids are getting ready for bed. Its early yet and still time for a bit of fun - or so I think, until very nice teacher by day turns into big scary teacher by night. "Be quiet' she roars. ' you should be asleep.' OMG its still daylight. The parents stand around shuffling from one leg to the other. So what now? Wine? Beer? Scrabble? There's nothing for it but to retreat from the threat of mozzies and face a bedtime I usually only dream about. And it would be a dream except (Jaws theme music) I am surrounded by three eight year old boys. Can we tell ghost stories? Yeah, says I far too enthusiastically for a mature adult. 'Weeeeeeellll' Child one goes off on the longest, most tangential, unscary ghost story I have ever hear. Child two has dropped off to sleep with boredom. 'Be quiet' booms scary teacher, who has now transformed into Attila the Hun. We all jump bolt upright, including the sleeping child. 'Right,' says I, 'Here's my ghost story.' 'you can't talk about blood,' says one "Or ghosts,' says another. "or vampires.' My creativity is stunted. Child one and two start to drop off to sleep. 'What do we do now?" says child three (who happens to be mine). 'We could play with the torch.' "Be quiet," roars Attila. Sighing I use my number one method of trying to get to sleep - daydreaming in detail about the day I learn I have won Lotto. The night progresses. 'Caaaaaaass, I need to go to the toilet," 'Caaaaaaaass, I cant find a torch," "Caaaaaaaasssss, I can't unzip the tent," 'Caaaasss, my airbed has come down. "Caaaaasssssss, can I get in with you?" "Absolutely not,' says I emulating Attila the teacher. There IS a limit. The night drifts on. A roar comes from outside the tent. Someone is playing the DVD of 'Where the Wild Things Are." Or perhaps I've woken up in Wellington Zoo. No, it the children in the next door tent. Hee heee, haw haw, giggle, chortle,. Now its the kids on the other side. Its in stereo. And its pitch dark. The time is 5am. Where is Attila the teacher now? Seems like its a hanging offence to talk after 8pm but 5am is perfectly acceptable. I clamber out of bed. "Be quiet,' I demand. I clamber back into my bag, I try to sleep but I am livid with the injustice of the situation. Why are early birds so righteous and night owls condemned? 'Time to get dressed', I hear one of the parents say. It's only 6.30! I abandon ship, so angry I go home and pull weeds from the garden for half an hour to calm down. Finally shower and head to work for a strategic planning session with the board - a picnic in comparison with what I've been through. Next year Dad gets the job.