May 29th 2018


This is a boot beard, this is a phenomenon discovered by the pioneer of the wellington boot herself, C. When a boot has been trudging around the fields all day, wet grass and muddy puddles; sometimes, if you are lucky some stringy grass will cling to the bottom of your boot. This becomes most visible when the wearer is sat down at the camp fire, legs crossed, the leading leg hanging over the knee dangling in the air and a wispy green straggly beard hangs from the sole, the very sole of the boot, to say it looks like the typical archetype of an ancient wise Chinese man’s beard would be about right, and it is in no way meant to offend, should anyone fancy taking offence.

Shame the picture doesn’t really show the Boot beard in all its glory, but the wispiness is definitely there.

On Saturday, the day was beautiful and heated up a real treat, we had about 20 bacon sandwiches with the type of selection of sauces to rival the best greasy spoon restaurant. Beer and breakfast cider was cracked open, by some, until we decided who was to drive over the minge to the shops for, in no particular order, newspaper for the crossword, coal for the fire pit (charcoal had to do), beer, Old Rosie cider (you really know when you’ve had an Old Rosie), some socks and potentially, depending on cost, a new blow up mattress to replace the massively high one C&A had which had to be continually pumped up in the night. The issue with a leaking mattress is the following uncomfortable nights sleep; you would think it could go 2 ways

a) You come together in the middle as the mattress deflates.

b) You fall off the edges and end up prostrate on the hard tent floor.

There is a third, apparently, with the head down and the legs sticking up in the air, all the blood having rushed to the head. This is a proven fact of the night, the first ever so well done C&A for discovering this.

Saturday afternoon saw a brief trip to the pub down the road where I learnt how to Morris dance with the Full Moon Morris, who by 3pm had already been dancing in 5 pubs and had a bus to transport them round to the next and the next and the next pubs! A hoot, I’ve got a video to show our international friends what wonderful pastimes we have in this ridiculous country we call home.  Shame, my platform doesn’t support videos, well home videos anyway, so this Four Tet will have to do, its like this, this is what Morris Dancing is all about.

I don’t think it would be out of order to mention space cakes at this point, it was all getting rather silly and, well, we had some! Saturday night was a really late one and just before bed, thunder was in the air and we had already lost one Gazebo, mangled out of shape as it was lifted across the camp site towards my mates Aston; never saw him move so quickly, and resulting from the mad dash to apprehend the offending mangle of metal and plastic (the gazebo) as it careered across the field, was a sore bum/ upper leg, pulled a muscle see.

Anyway waking up to the cacophonous sound of a raging thunder storm and seeing the flashes of fork lightening, even at 6am was a sight to behold, the camp site specifically around our camp up to about 4 inches deep in water, the grass waving like seaweed as our field was turned into a slightly messy version of the seabed as seen in Finding Nemo. The stream at the bottom of the field had swelled to a raging torrent of a river, almost spewing its milk chocolate coloured flood over the banks and onto the river campers.

Pretty much all the River Campers’ cars were stuck, and we decided to pack up in the 2 hour window of relative calm while the storm subsided. We drove home in convoy, the sun deciding to come out as we had packed our stuff, no one was dry, no one had any dry clothes left, the children especially.




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