I do believe Summer may have lulled us into complacency. I hate being hot and sweaty but I had kind of resigned myself that it was now my lot in life to slowly roast to death in the gradual onset of a massive climate change. But that is still not quite how seasons work and the first big storm of Autumn certainly made an impact. Our little turtle house held up pretty well but our neighbour’s canvas tent, a magnificent gorgeous thing in more friendly conditions, was completely washed out to the extent that they made a midnight evacuation to less porous accomadation.
The claps of thunder brought a sheepish 9 year old to the foot of our bed and he sat with his step dad, watching the radar and checking on the fire started by a nearby lightening strike on the emergency services app.
By the morning we were pretty much the only loiterers left, besides a sad, slumped canvas tent and the less wet patches signifying where the caravans had been.
Then like a cliché in a hastily written blog post the ducks arrived.
Tonight I will attempt to battle with my eternal nemesis; the wet weather campfire.
Wish me luck…