The Bedale and West of Yore hunts pony club camp was held this year at Thorp Perrow near Bedale by kind permission of Sir John and Lady Ropner.

The estate park has been used for camp for many years now. One can only say it is the most perfect setting for this venue. Acres of land to ride and run around, and far enough away from the main house to leave Sir John in peace!

I am setting up the 'camp mum nerve centre' in the tents area, where the children arrive at noon to bag their tents. First problem - we slightly miscalculate the exact number of tents needed to home 60 campers for six nights (incidentally our biggest camp with seven daily's).

A pony club parent comes to the rescue with a fine marquee-style tent at 7pm and the children are finally asleep by midnight, having ridden, done a treasure hunt and at last settled in the ponies. At 11pm they were still acting as if they had each drunk a pint of Red Bull!

I am woken up at the dreadful hour of 4am by the hourly deafening chimes of Thorp Perrow clock tower, bizarrely the children never wake. At five I am beginning to wonder why I volunteered to be camp mum for the second year running, I could be lying on a beach somewhere, but the job description sounded a breeze over the phone - be 'mumsy' to the children and enjoy three cooked meals a day from army chef Ken.

I am wondering if Jill Woods, the other camp mum, feels the same.

The plus points are that it is a crazy, happy time and I can also enjoy watching my own two campers enjoying their camp activities. The camp information expected the parents to deliver their children, ponies and camp kit on Sunday and return on Wednesday to see their children at the dog show and barbeque. This must be hard for some mothers, but then again.....

No mobiles were allowed, other than by the officials, we don't want repeats from earlier days of ordering outside pizzas, not too good to see a pizza van trying to find a certain tent!

The minus point is the real lack of sleep. I nipped home for some clean underwear and felt the silence around me, I must be bonkers to sacrifice that and choose to spend my time with 67 noisy kids!

Packing for camp according to the kit list is like packing the trunk for school again, nametapes had to be sewn on everything including naming the toothpaste. By midnight on Saturday I was still sewing. My own camp mum essentials included a searchlight-style torch, to catch the wandering boys trying to find the girls' tents, endless water proofs in case of rain, every camp mum's worst fear, a kettle and camping stove, to ensure a regular intake of caffeine, and finally a wine box, that needs no explaining!

Camp mums second worst fear is sanitation, sharing eight portaloos with 60 children. I announced that all boys had to take a torch with them after dark.

When off duty from first aid, tuck shop, cleaning loos or vetting the tents, most of our free time was spent eating. Pony watching and duties makes you hungry, and we end up as enthusiastic about Ken's chips as the children are. Ken told me that an army marches on his stomach. Well the Bedale are certainly thriving on theirs.

The usual day started with a pony parade for a tack and turnout inspection followed by riding. For us it was the ghastly job of refreshing and disinfecting the portaloos. Armed with a clothes peg and rubber gloves, we got it done every day.

After lunch our next duty was the tuck shop. The queue is endless, it is all penny sweet stuff as we are too brain lazy for maths.

On day two we made a plan - get the senior girls to serve in return for free tuck!

At 1.45pm they are munching tuck and learning their stable management. The boys won't be learning too much, there are too many girls helping! The ratio at camp this year was 13 boys to 54 girls. My husband told me that, back in his day, the boys bribed the girls to plait the ponies and clean the tack. My youngest son Richard appears to have worked the Ropner charm on someone as he looks surprisingly decent each morning at parade!

After tea comes the evening entertainment. Monday was the quiz night, kids versus staff. Tuesday was a parade of Bedale hounds and the Catterick beagles.

Wednesday was swimming, a request from the girls but essential for the boys, who had made scant efforts to acquaint themselves with the contents of their wash bags! Good timing, they all smelt rosy for their parents who came for the barbeque and dog show that evening.

Thursday night was spent swatting for the dressage tests for the one-day event the following day. Friday morning and the stables are a frenzy of plaiting and grooming with children all preparing for the dressage, show jumping and cross-country.

After the cross-country the time in the saddle is over and the result sheets are scanned, by this time everyone is on Red Bull.

The children end the week doing torturous skits, sending up camp staff, especially the chief instructor Robert Blane, followed by a water fight, de riguer for camp fun. Karen Evans, the camp organiser, and I end up getting an unplanned shower. Finally the fun of the camp disco, with everyone dancing until the generator ran out of diesel.

The recharged torches were busy on the Friday night with the boys flirting like jungle cats circling their prey.

We finally managed to sit on guard outside their tents listening to their amusing snippets of information as they analyse all things feminine and totally non-equestrian.

I notice that camp breaks up a lot faster than it sets up. We supervise the emptying of tents, sign clearance slips after every sweetie wrapper is picked up and stare at the lost property pile, which is growing considerably. Apparently not all parents stayed up until midnight sewing!

By 1pm all campers are gone, waving their rosettes, looking tanned and exhausted.

Their parents might find that they won't ride for a week and will be complete zombies, asleep on the sofa by six. They are not the only ones - so will we.

Emma Ropne

Published: ??/??/2004