Now. Don't get me wrong, we did do all those things (especially the alcohol bit :D ) but we did a lot of things that dont make the tourist pamphlets - exploding tents, blazing inferno's, that awkward moment when you mis-park the car:
Now I am a writer, but I feel words just cannot do justice to what I am talking about so, with that being said here is a blog first. Pictures!
Two and half hours worth of effort, sweat and profanities and finally the tent was up. The picture does not do it justice, it is huge! (See superman? That's me!)
So everything was going well, the tent was up the scenery was gorgeous!
|Sunset Dura 2|
Too often we take it for granted just how beautiful this country is. I remembered that this weekend.
Right, now remember the tent that took two and a half hours to erect? Well...
|Dude, where's my tent?|
This is not what it looks like. Well not strictly true, technically it is a picture of a car on top of our tent, but the car didn't drive into the tent, it was put there deliberately.
You see the rods that ran along the top of the tent were made of fibre glass - flexible and durable (my arse) and prone to shatter at the first strong gust of wind - so on night two, at 2.45 AM (when we are all a tad drunk and had just rolled into the sleeping bags) the tent collapsed and we had to evacuate.
Now most families (I'd imagine) would be quite distraught by this turn of events, ours? Nah, we had a good laugh as we struggled to pull my uncle from the depths of the tent turned survival maze. Keep in mind that the wind was still blowing a gale at this point and my arms were bearing the strain of the whole tent as the wind urged it closer to the sea. While the rest of the family stood around discussing the various ways to weight down a tent to stop it becoming a plane, my uncle (who had indulged in one or two beverages) dissapeared to return a moment later at 30mph and park where he had been sleeping only moments before.
Now I'll be honest, there was a kind of stunned silence as the audi rolled over the sleeping bags. This was then followed by shrieks of laughter (adrenaline? fatigue? madness? ...all of the above?)
I was then tasked with a very important salvage operation and had to delve back into the depths of the tent and recover sleeping bags and air beds, my brother and uncle promptly invaded the tent next door (my aunt and uncle - who hadn't heard a thing - were oblivious to their entry until morning) My mother and I decided it would be a good idea to get a cup of tea at this point (it is the jubilee weekend and tea is a very British thing to do)
I slept like a convict on death row just before the big day. So not much. I awoke to fits of hysterics as the rest of the family rose to view the new Campbeltown parking lot.
|2.5 hours to put up, 2.5 secs to come down...|
Now - that is pretty bad, but we should have seen it coming. The night before in the events tent (where we cooked and sang (and drank)) there was a fire, and not the scheduled kind. One of my other uncles had bought an all singing all dancing portable GAS fires. Which promptly blew up.
|Dont play with fire|
My uncle (the one with the car park idea) saved the day and with one hand braved the blaze, grabbing the propane bottle turned inferno (the other hand was way back holding his vodka safe out of reach) and wrestled it outside into the open air.
All in all, an interestng weekend...would I do it again?
In a bloody heartbeat!
Dare to dream!