Bearing in mind the state
in which I staggered off to my pit last night I woke feeling
amazingly raring to go. But over a morning cuppa we had some bad
news. The last of our contingent to arrive had been delayed.
Seriously delayed. Actually in hospital delayed. It transpired that a
coffee-related injury had done for Terry. We spent much of the day
anxiously awaiting updates.
Pausing only briefly to
secretly feed black pudding to my grand-dog I got two kites into the
sky. It sounds easy. It probably took me the best part of an hour to
do. I then made my way to my post at the children's workshop where
quite a few of us spent a couple of hours helping children make
little kites which they would promptly get stuck in trees.
Once 3pm arrived we shut
up the workshop, and I slowly made my way back to base. Slowly,
calling in on many campers and caravaners on the way. There are so
many people that I know through kiting, and I see them maybe twice a
year at most. It was good to catch up with people.
I hadn't learned from my
mistake, and had a another pint of Dissorano. It never seems that
strong at the time. There was also Pimms going on, and I found that a
slice of orange went very well with my home brew.
An evening meal of sweet
n sour pork was well appreciated, but the rain (which had been on
and off all day) was steadily getting worse. So much so that it
completely stuffed my ability to get our camp fire going. So in time
honoured fashion we retreated into out communal tent and drank
ourselves silly. I'm told there was rice pudding....
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