Thursday

Packed tent. Check to see I have not forgotten tent pole.

Packed bag. Remembered to pack more socks than I think I need. 

Check I have not forgotten tent pole.

Order taxi.

Carry bags to door step.

Check I have not forgotten tent pole.

Lock up.

Photograph myself locking up in case I think did I lock up when I am on the coach.

Check I have not forgotten tent pole.

Wait for taxi.

Notice I left light on.

Repeat previous four steps.

Check I have not forgotten tent pole.

Coach from Bristol to Exeter.

Drag bags from coach stop to bus stop.

Exeter Coach station has been rebuilt. It has got as far as the snazzy electronic time table, but not as far as telling anyone when bus is cancelled.

Drag bags from bus stop to shuttle bus stop.

Pick up two armbands two additional tickets and bus pass.

Drag bag to parch of grass.

Fight with tent. (Tent poles were exactly where I put them.)

Spend ten minutes trying to find where my hat blew away to.

Discover hat shaped lump under ground sheet.

Shuttle into town.

First (and if we are going to retain our reformed waistline it really ought to be last….) cornish pastie of week. This is Dorset rather than Cornwall so they add the jam first. (Niche joke. US readers may skip. A Cornish Pastie is a meat pie but we make a bit of a thing about it. Visions of heaven sustained us when John Wesley gave us a voice.)

Certain amount of faffing in shops to purchase things I forgot to pack. There is a small camp shop which very likely sells tent poles.

To the Ham. Pointless queue goes right round field to other side of river.

Person sitting behind me complains about tall people sitting in front of them but declines offer to change places with me. Old people moan about everything, it is a hobby for them. Getting a bit late to hope I die before I get old.

Announcements about ice cream, toilets, mobile phones and rugby club sponsorship. The last time I was in this tent, the announcer said “no talking, no phones, and no arguing about Jeremy Corbyn,” (On the coach I listened to a Gaz Brookfield song called The Year That Never Was.)

First band of weekend.

You shouldn’t a wend a wooing if you lack on of the following three things, apparently: a bag of gold and an open heart full of charity. I make that two things, actually. They are wearing a green willow all around their hat, but I didn’t think it polite to ask why



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