27 September 2005


The above image was in my head before I set off camping at the back end of August. Sadly, reality let me down and it rained only once - the storm that caused flash flooding near Newcastle, that we experienced the scouring and forked-lightning majesty of from the safety of a hired car as we topped the moors around Bedale, that had blown itself out completely by the time we got back to my still dry (and hence wonderful) new tent. Unlike the triangular and square tents of my youth, tents now are universally curvy - some igloo shaped, some (like mine) reminiscent of windtunnels and others unions of the two in strange and homely combinations. Cars have gone the same way - the square things of the seventies and eighties are now eggs. Caravans have reversed the trend and metamorphose from egg to box as the mid-twentieth-century that birthed (or laid?) them is left further and further behind. Anyway, much relaxing fun was had by all. There's something about not hearing traffic all the time which instantly evaporates the constant stress of city life, and the starscapes over the Yorkshire Dales are the best I've seen in England - worth getting up for at 4am (alright I got up for a pee but I didn't mind getting up for a pee every night once I clocked those skies). Must camp again before winter arrives and the Groke stalks the land. Must move to somewhere with star bejewelled night before the city knackers my heart and soul...

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