Happy days are here again

We’re going camping. Whoopee.

There’s a big ol’ storm heading our way and we’re going to be stuck  in a tent. I can’t wait.

It’s summertime in England so that means that we all get out there and commune with nature; except we wont be. What we will actually be doing is enduring another hellish weekend cowering inside our tent while it is being flailed by high winds and rain. But that’s OK though because we’re British, which means that our stiff upper lip and steady resolve enables us to put up with situations like this with dignity and decorum.

Experience has taught me that that there is no point getting down in the mouth about all this. There is nothing to be gained from being sad and moping around because you just end up tripping over cold wet guy ropes and pissing everybody else off.  It seems that whenever I go camping,  everyone else begins to suffer from some sort of a group hysteria, it manifests itself in a strange form of irrational optimism. They start to say things like, ‘Don’t worry it’ll brighten up in a minute,’  or ‘Shall we go to the beach tomorrow?’ when it should be patently obvious to anyone with even one eye that the sky is getting darker and and it’s getting colder and colder.

These days I take solace in two things, firstly skin is waterproof, and secondly I can always get drunk to dull the pain.