|A wet camping trip|
There was a tense discussion between Tom and I about what would happen if the tent got struck by lightning. I pointed out that we were exposed on top of a hill in a pointy bell tent with a metal pole in the middle.
We decided to de-camp as quickly as we could, there and then. I gently shook Betty awake and told her she had to get up. "It's the middle of the night, and I am only five, let me sleep," she mumbled. I knew that Dolly would be furious at being woken up, so I gave that job to Tom.
Once both girls were safely inside the car and happily eating crisps, Tom and I, both in pyjamas, head torches and serious expressions, embarked on our dangerous and extreme mission of dismantling the tent.
In this high state of emergency, I had to let go of my obsession of categorising everything and packing it all away neatly in its rightful home. Sweating cheese and sausages were thrown into the wash bag, and unwashed cutlery and pans were shoved into Dolly's suitcase.
The normally straightforward job of folding up the tent became quite an ordeal as the wind got underneath it and threatened to blow the whole thing into the sky. Tom was in full action hero mode, and managed to hold it in place long enough to be able to gather it up, and cram it, soaking wet into the boot of the car.
Having successfully piled everything into the car in an impressive 20 minutes flat, we headed for home. I sat uneasy in my seat, updating my Facebook friends of our ordeal, and not quite coping with the fact that things were not packed in an orderly fashion. In the back of the car, Betty and Dolly had fallen asleep. And it was all Tom could do to stop himself from saying 'I told you so', having strongly suggested that we de-camp a day earlier, after hearing severe weather warnings.