Today is the day I dread above all others in the calendar year (other than the first day back after the Christmas holidays). That's right, it's time for the annual camping weekend.
Of course it is - it's been raining for weeks, it's still raining, the ground is sodden, it's breezy, it's cold for July and the forecast is uncertain.
It's therefore absolutely the obvious "choice" to leave my nice, warm home and big TV behind and spend the next two nights sleeping in a big, stupid tent in the arse end of nowhere. Brilliant. I just can't wait.
This year I have packed my
duck radio. This is for two specific reasons:
duck radio. This is for two specific reasons:
- To remind me that the big, wide world out there still exists, and
- To attempt to drown out the endless witters of Dagenham Dave who will inevitably be talking bollocks.
So, whatever you're planning to do this weekend, please think of me. You might even want to say a little prayer. And if you are talking to God, please ask Him why the **** he invented camping.
