Last night ‘er indoors TM had found her air bed had gone flat, and had decided to rough it. I always rough it on the floor, and this morning for some reason I woke up with the world’s worst backache. Once last night’s washing up was done we had a late breakfast. You can’t beat sausages, bacon and eggs in a field.
Once the banners were up, family and more friends arrived and started putting up their tents. Some went up easier than others, and there were reports of the Sevenoaks contingent having a disappointing erection. And then the morning had gone. I don’t know where, or how, but suddenly it was mid day. Time for a bit of scoff – bread & cheese and a bottle of beer. Can’t be bad.
Most of the afternoon was spent gloating. There is nothing as entertaining as someone else’s misfortune, and
And then I thought I’d fly a kite. After all, it was a kite festival. However there was one minor drawback – no wind. Which is usually the case at Teston. Either no wind at all, or a hurricane right down the middle. Rarely anything in between. SO rather than flying a kite, I got out the bubble sword which I’d won at the Brighton Kite Fliers AGM earlier in the year. This soon attracted a following of littluns who all wanted a go, and the bubble sword probably lasted an hour before breaking.
Earlly tea as ‘er indoors TM was off to the midlands, and whilst Batty went to fetch Brian (and some reading material) we spent the time chatting (or “Habjabbing” as I’m told it’s called). Whilst some of the campers went off to the Chinese restaurant, we watched others move the site’s picnic tables into the tents of the diners. These things are heavy, you need two people to shift them, and it was fun to see Dick’s reaction to stagger into his tent, only to be unable to get into his tent because it was full of table.