I got to bed shortly
after 1am, and since I hadn't brought my CPAP machine camping I woke
several times during the night. Eveyone woke with me at 5.30am when
the "delightful" children associated with the
British Red Cross encampment decided to start running around the
camping field whilst screaming and shreiking.
Brekkie was rather good;
a fry-up when camping is always popular, and once I'd washed up I
dozed off. I woke too late to take my regular spot making bridles in
the kiddies' kite making workshop. Instead I helped out on crowd
control for the workshop. If anything kicked off I was all set to
steam in and knock heads together. Provided that they were under five
years old...
Having done my bit I made
my way back to our camp where we sat and watched the normal people
flying kites. I say "flying kites"; like any hobby,
skill or activity there is a knack to be mastered. Several of the
normal people looked as though they had taken up semaphore rather
than kite flying. But we offered sage advice. Sage advice which was
even welcomed in a couple of instances. One lady even came and had a
beer with us once we'd got her kite out of a knot and into the air.
Batty arrived with some
Feigling. For those of my loyal readers who have never tried the
stuff... it's not unlike vodka, comes in small bottles, it *has*
to be drunk in a special way, and you end up with a sore (if not
broken) nose.
Fajitas made for a rather
good evening meal, and beer flowed as it does on these occassions.
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