Okay, I admit it – I just don’t get why people like the countryside
Is it such a crime to prefer civilisation over mother nature?
Ah, the great outdoors. Isn't it nice to escape the city sometimes for a bit of fresh air? Wouldn't it be great to strap on those hiking boots and go for a trek across the Pentlands in this beautiful Scottish October drizzle?
Er, how about no?
It's not that I hate the countryside – I just feel completely out of place there. I never have the right clothes, I'm not good at dealing with weather, and I get a stitch after extended periods of physical exertion. Disagree with me all you like, but I'll always choose civilisation over mother nature.
Going to uni in Scotland, though, means that most of the time I feel I have to put on a front when someone suggests a trip out of the city, and pretend I actually fancy traipsing around in sideways rain in the aims of seeing some furry brown animals (I'm told they're called Highland cows) sitting in a field.
You've probably guessed by now that I am not an expert on the flora and fauna.
Often, I find myself wondering whether I'll be deported from the 'most beautiful country in the world' if I admit that I'd rather spend the day in Glasgow than on the Isle of Skye, or that Edinburgh's architecture excites me more than its surrounding countryside does.
Slowly, though, I've come to the realisation that I'm just a city person – and I'll probably always be that way. There's no point in pretending any more – you might see me weakly nodding my head at a suggestion of a camping trip, but inside, I'll be screaming 'PLEASE NO'.
Call me a diva, but when someone says that they enjoy camping, I am genuinely confused – why would anyone want to spend the night shivering under a flimsy nylon canopy, only to wake up and remember that breakfast is a tin of cold beans?
Believe me when I say I've tried – I miraculously managed to force myself through Bronze and Silver D of E – but any attempts to become at one with nature have resulted in me just being more desperate to get back into the city and erase all thoughts of tent pins and damp anoraks from my mind ASAP.
I blame it on my parents – we were absolutely not the kind of family that went on camping/climbing/skiing holidays, and my sister and I now have the inclination to laugh at anyone who does.
I grew up in the city, and that's where I feel most at home. I think back to the time when I wore new white canvas trainers to visit some stables (they're still covered in horse shit) and it all becomes clear. I'm a hopeless case and clearly not cut out for the outdoors life.
Sorry, country bumpkins – however much I try, I just can't get on your side.