Alex James: The joy of an aimless amble Last year I built a summer camp in the woods right at the other end of the farm. "This is quite simply the most spectacular summer camp you will ever see," I explained to the children, with all the roll-up, ringmaster flamboyance I could muster. Oh yes, it has ab-so-lutely everything. You, you, you, you and especially you, are not quite going to believe it. I could see I had them. They couldn't tell I was lying through my teeth. Actually it was just a bit of old rope dangling from an oak tree. I love going for pointless ambles. There is nothing that pleases me more than a bit of aimless dawdling in the sunshine. But the idea of "going for a walk" terrifies children. The small ones scream and the big ones hide. Kids need destinations. They need to know what, why and where. The thing is, as soon as they're out of the door, they are as happy as I am. They find a bent sick, a stone they can just about lift, a sheep's skull, some ants - their fascinations are endless. They never want to go home when the time comes, but it always takes a whole lot of pushing and shoving to get them going. This year my barefaced lies have worn thin and I've had to resort to hiding a big jar of boiled sweets inside the oak tree as an enticement to get them to explore the place. In the fortnight since we had last been there, the path had disappeared in a mass of stinging nettles and a couple of quite big trees had fallen over right across it, blocking the way completely. Nothing could stop them, though. All five children whacked and scrambled their way to the humbugs with primal vigour. Getting them home again was another story.