Camping: it's a right carry-on.

Byline: Karren Brady 

SOME people like tents. I don't. Let me repeat that. I am not a tent person.

In my list of ten holidays I would least like to take, being in a tent finishes second last to the Baghdad Hilton.

And it isn't just being able to wear my high heels, it's the whole Girl-Guide-unwashedspidery- tin-loos-rain-drumming thing of it.

I'm not quite this way about caravans. But nearly. At least you can stand up in a caravan.

Flush the lavs. Lie on a lumpy bed or sit around a table in the dry.

Actually, what I least like about caravans is that they are there. Parked in drives, they look ugly. Parked along the sealine of Wales, mile upon mile upon mile of them, they are a glittering hell, a cliff-top township more attuned to Sao Paolo or Mexico City than to one of the most beautiful coastlines in the land. When caravanners complain about wind pylons on mountains which they do (I've heard them), they should just think of how rows of their caravans look from the sea. Entering Liverpool docks is superior.

It seems that the credit crunch has come to the rescue of camping holidays in Britain. The cost of petrol and gas has made this a lot more expensive than it was but home hols are still becoming more and more competitive with those abroad.

Alongside a picture of hundreds of tents squeezed into Camber Sands I saw recently was a story in which the warden gleefully reported that business was so good he was turning away campers every weekend.

This was reinforced by a 25 per cent increase in the sale of tents at stores all over the country as well as big sales of fold-away chairs, roll-mats and sleeping bags.

The fact that I happen to think existence in a tent, the litter, the noises in the night, the feeling you're always dirty and being watched, is on a par with settling in with a nest of cockroaches by no means invalidates it, for some, as a holiday.

Like most children mine love camping or at least convenience camping - that is either in the garden or in the proximity of food cooked or supplied by someone else.

The hardier ones join the Scouts or Guides and I understand there is a huge rise in these numbers, too. These organisations equip children with the confidence to look after themselves and hurrah to them for that. But not my cup of tea.

Frankly, I've stuck to Spain and predictable sun. For as long as I can afford to do so, I'll continue. Even the cockroaches are bigger, you know!