MIDDLE class mothers are too afraid to take their children rambling in case they get lost or muddy – if you go by the findings of a study carried out in a single prep school somewhere in the south of England.

This is, no doubt, despite collecting the little darlings from primary school in that vehicle not-so specifically designed for urban on-roading – the ubiquitous 4x4.

Debbie Pearlman-Hougie, who is basing her conclusions on a relatively small study group, found that none of the mothers she spoke to could read an Ordnance Survey map.

They also appeared to be, she concluded, obsessed with injury and dirt.

“They are very scared of children being run over and even stolen,” revealed the senior lecturer in rural geography at Hertfordshire University.

And: “Perhaps because children are in expensive clothes, mud seems to be abhorrent.”

As someone who completed her Bronze Duke of Edinburgh Award dressed entirely in orange, thanks to hand-me-down 1970s waterproofs, I have little empathy with kids whose walking gear is too posh to push over in the mud.

I’d have been glad of a bit to deaden the neon gleam of my tangerine overcoat, or at least dull it slightly so that it was a slightly different colour to my matching orange plastic bowl and bedding roll.

However, I do have sympathy for the middle class mothers’ fear of navigation, and the reason is this: By studying the landscape around you, it is perfectly possible to convince yourself that you are at any single point on an Ordnance Survey map.

Sounds ridiculous? Then I challenge you to try it.

Stand in the middle of the countryside and pick a spot on the map. See that copse of evergreen trees designated by a group of tiny pines? Well there’s a couple of real life ones over there that it could be. See that land boundary marked on the map by a line?

It could easily be that dry stone wall to your left.

The more you stare at the map, the more you could convince yourself you’re just about anywhere, until you realise you’re actually holding it upside down.

The detail in an Ordnance Survey map is what makes it so useful, but it’s also what can have you wandering round the forest Blair Witch-style, blaming lumberjacks and phantom path movers for your own navigational inadequacies.

However, once you’ve got the hang of it and everything’s where it’s supposed to be – and you’ve stopped believing an invisible magnetic force is adversely affecting your compass – following an Ordnance Survey map from A to B can be very satisfying.

Your only aim, for that period of time, is to reach your destination unscathed.

There are no deadlines to meet and no housework to do.

Everything you need is in the rucksack on your back – whether it’s a smart Craghopper blue or a dodgy ’70s ochre.

That day, you will achieve all you set out to do, simply because the alternative is spending the night in a sheepfold.

And, believe me, experiencing that just once is enough of an incentive to keep your legs moving in the right direction.

There’s the view of the top of the climb to look forward to and that wonderful sensation of the cold breeze against your overheated face when you stop for a break.

And the way cheese butties take on a certain Michelin Star quality when eaten on a windy hilltop with your back resting against a rock – even if they were hurriedly made in the car park at the foot of the fell, using the margarine foil lid as an impromptu knife.

READ more of Laura Davis’ columns at www.liverpooldailypost.co.uk/lauradavis