HENRY HOLLAND

When I was quite young, we had some really good camping holidays in Silverdale, not that far from where we lived in Lancashire.

All of us in a five-man tent and washing in the river. I don’t think I’d be so into it now. Especially as I once went to Tanzania with Oxfam and electrocuted myself in the one hour of electricity we had each day, using my hair straighteners. I was not so high-maintenance when I was younger. I thought washing in the river was exciting and it was pre-quiff because there was no need for a hairdryer at the time.

It would be me, my sister, my stepsister, my mum and my stepdad. We’d go with family friends who had kids of a similar age. My step dad had a great Dane that would also sometimes share the tent. It was a cramped affair.

I look at glamping holidays today and I think, what the heck were we doing sleeping on the floor? Now I’m more interested in a better level of service. Food was probably one of those tins of baked beans with something in it, heated on a camping stove. It’s definitely made me more grateful for all the things I have now. By the age of seven we started to go to Eurocamp, but I have happy memories of Silverdale. I remember vomiting out of the car window and it was bright orange. My mum was really worried until my stepdad was like: “Hold on, he’s eaten a whole packet of orange Club biscuits in 15 minutes.” I had a glimpse of sympathy before I was labelled an idiot.

We were deducted 10 pence of our pocket money for every time we asked: “Are we nearly there yet?” It was very effective. They still say it now I’m nearly 40.