It is half past eight on a wet Saturday night and I have no idea where my children are. Normally, they’d both be in bed at this time but, instead, I am staring into the pouring rain and shouting their names at the top of my voice.

“Oh, come inside. Nothing can happen to them here,” sighs my sister-in-law Rosalind, used to my overprotective instincts. We are staying in a giant tent, pitched on Bouncers Farm near Maldon in Essex. It’s the kind of thing you might expect to see on a luxury safari in Africa. The tent has a wood floor, a flush lavatory, rustic furniture, knick-knacks, artfully teacrate-clad walls and photographs of local fauna – plus three separate bedrooms with mattresses and duvets provided. We are talking by candlelight, and two oil lamps give the interior a warm Victorian glow.