10 - Viva Lewes

Little warning signs and polite notices are the
ruin of many a good campsite. The camp manager
needs the will power not to put up a little sign
every time someone transgresses. Signs proliferate
and before you know it, the laundrette has one,
warning against the washing of dog baskets in the
sink. And then your campsite is ruined.
Different rules apply at camp. “Camp regulations
should be as few as possible but firm and consistent,”
notes a pamphlet issued by the Ministry of
Education in 1951 advising on the organisation of
group camps. But what are those regulations? And
can all of them be written down on little signs?
For example, I recently stayed at a campsite where
there could easily have been a sign that read:
“Please do not drunk drive to the toilets at midnight
in your nightie. Even if it is raining.”
These days, people arrive at a campsite expecting
some kind of holiday. It is no such thing.
Consumerism creates an outrageous sense of entitlement
that camping, reliant on self-sufficiency,
preparation and patience, cannot meet. During
an interview with a campsite owner, one of the
staff confessed that a yurt occupant complained
that their hot water bottle was too hot. I offered to
draw up the little sign myself:
“Yurt occupants: you’ll get what you’re bloody
well given.”
Once you start making signs, it’s hard to stop:
“Couples: Arguments about whose bloody idea it
was to camp in the first place should be confined
to your car.”
Actually, all sites could benefit from -
“Warning: tents do not afford aural privacy.”
Not that either marital arguments or their opposite
bother me (“Polite notice: Campers are
advised to get out of their sleeping bags before
attempting intercourse.”) In fact, I regard the
campsite as a laboratory for studying the modern
relationship. At Glastonbury Festival, I missed
W W W. V i Va L E W E s . C o M
CampiNg etiquet te
‘Tents do not afford aural privacy’
Photo: Matthew de abaitua
c a m p i n g
all the bands and had to find my entertainment in
other people’s marriages. I’d never seen a grown
man sent back to his tent to change his undies
before.
“Men: please change your undies DAILY. Or when
the occasion DEMANDS.”
The main bone of contention is noise. I used to
play music on little speakers but everyone hates
it, no matter how trendy or ambient the playlist.
Most campsites have signs suggesting times for
silence. More accurate would be:
“Campers please refrain from sharing theories
about what really happened on 9/11 after 1am.”
And,
“No cackling.”
Then there is snoring. It is acceptable to complain
about the obscene snoring of other campers to
their face the morning after. Apparently. All I
can do is shrug. However I have made a little sign
suggesting that:
“It is not acceptable to climb into the tent of a
snorer and press a pillow over their face.”
As I have always found that disturbs my deep and
sonorous sleep. Matthew De Abaitua
Matthew De Abaitua’s The Art of Camping: The
History and Practice of Sleeping Under the Stars is
published by Hamish Hamilton and is out now.
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