FOWC: Camp

FOWC

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A wonderful weekend of cracking ales, a BBQ with mates, getting smoked out by an out of control fire pit, damp logs from the last time not cleared out making the smoke acrid as it chased us from our chairs stumbling in the darkness. The rain had subsided just intimate for us to de-camp out side and actually get the kebabs, burgers and sausages sizzling. I will never cook chicken on a BBQ again although I will authorise others to do so on my behalf, we cremated those lime and chilli kebabs and yet still the inside was pink, maybe this is just the way, chicken is a difficult nut to crack.

Whilst smoking out the near neighbours and no doubt we would have soiled their washing were it on the line, but such is the unpredictability of the British Summer, there would have been little chance of such a thing happening. So to balance all the smoke belched into the local atmosphere we did our bit for the environment and test drove a Tesla car, which was fucking mental, the most comfortable and effortlessly easy car I have ever driven, and I have grown mistrustful of cars of late, thank god for podcasts and digital radio otherwise I would refuse point blank, thereby losing my job, alienating my family and friends as I took to cheap cider. My family would kick me out for being such a buffoon and I would be forced to camp as the summer turned into autumn and then winter. So the good news is that Mrs T will be ordering a Tesla 3 and we shall stealthily sneak up on people in our silent electric car, I believe we can put our own sounds into the engine to make it sound like a) a herd of cows or b) a swarm of bees. Either would be good, the instructions will be on youtube I’m sure.

And what better way too finish off a weekend with a monday night rush hour shopping trip up the M5 then M6 to Ikea?! Don’t all shout at once, we had a plan and a strategy to move quickly through all the bits we needed to and get the stuff ordered, we asked an Ikea man to design the inside of a double cupboard for us, quick and with knowledge we didn’t possess, making our life infinitely sweeter, but my back is sore from the flat pack lifting which is in itself an ailment which I am christening “Flat Back” and with that I will leap into the bath.

Slowly.

Good night .

 

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