A little camp
149 words, 1 image 
A little camp - (Flickr user ukslim).
The rain had stopped momenatarily when I got home last night, so I took the opportunity to put up my festival tent between the scaffolding poles in Steve’s garden.
The aim of the exercise was to check it was still OK — whether anyb bits had gone missing while packing up from Glastonbury three years ago, whether I’d put it away damp and any bits had rotted, that kind of thing.
All seems well, although I should replace a few bits of perished elastic cord. In a way, I was secretly hoping for an excuse to buy a new tent. But this one’s lasted me at least nine years now, and it’s rather satisfying that it lives on.
I asked Steve whether he would like me to leave it up overnight so he could sleep in it and play Indians (er, Native Americans), but he declined.