I'll meet you at the coffee shop.

Apparently I look like the outdoorsy type. I can't think why.

I once asked my husband if he would like to go camping some day. (I don't understand why I asked. I certainly had no intention of following through). He replied that yes, he would, but not with me. For a split second I was offended, until I realised that this arrangement would suit us both. I dread to think what number and manner of gadgets would make a camping trip bearable.

This coming from a woman who was once a Girl Guide. Admittedly, the only badge I ever earned was Entertainment, which was procured by choreographing and performing a dance to John Farnham's Take the Pressure Down. (Don't mock me. It was 1988). None of the other badges appealed, for some reason. After being publicly chastised one evening for not being able to present a piece of rope for inspection, and then a flying fox incident at camp, I called it a day. I think we all knew it was the right decision.

I have been known to fake a cheery, outdoorsy air to good effect, when it mattered. Like, for example, when volunteering as a leader at kids' camps. (More than one. Again - why?) Can you lead a group game on the beach? Why, yes! Give me a moment to fetch my baseball cap and megaphone! I didn't dislike the experience. But my point is that I'd much rather be drinking coffee somewhere civilised. I like the tea room at the end of a (short) walk. I like the gift shop at the exit of a family attraction. My tat filter is temporarily disengaged and I marvel at overpriced novelty pens, pan pipe relaxation CDs and shiny books depicting animals/people/places I care nothing about and never will, whilst the rest of my party are tapping their feet impatiently waiting for me to emerge.

My problem is this. My son will, presumably, want to go outside at some point in the future. I mean, properly. To do stuff. Outdoors. This will require my encouragement and supervision. If I don't want him to end up like me, it's the only way. I'm going to have to fake it. Of course, I might accidentally enjoy it, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.