Wetney

So the lads and I all got together for another walking weekend - for a change under canvas - but this time we decided not to tell Rich. I mean we didn't want to hurt his feelings, but we had already replaced him with Hastings. This plan was all going so well. There we all were in the tent on the first night, when suddenly at the window appeared...

John losing the battle to keep Rich out.

Rich redoubling his efforts to cut his way in with a head-mounted laser.

Obviously by this point we stood no chance of claiming innocence. Once Rich had made it into the tent, we made some token effort to fudge an excuse about having sent him a memo that had gone missing in the pneumatic tube, which he dutifully said he believed, but all the same. You can see the awkward silence between him and Hastings here:

The following morning (Saturday), after all the rain of my travelling down direct from Cumbria the previous day, the sun was out, and so were we!

Then it started to rain, so I put on the rain trousers I'd borrowed off of David in Cumbria. Then it held off again. Although this was mildly irritating, I suppose it was also the outcome that I'd have chosen.

Anyway, we finished up in… Witney!

Presently though, the weather became a bit more decisive, and we six glampers rushed under cover again to play Keyword.

That night was pretty grim. I scraped molluscs off my tent to get in. All night long it slooshed down. The en suite toilet that I had had in my room back in Cumbria two nights earlier seemed like an impossible luxury at sloshy 4am, especially with the gents a couple of minutes' walk away.

But come morning, once again the sun came out to play. Some of the time.

We should all do this again some time. Well, the dry bits at least.