I pitched it again a few weeks ago. Well, I say “pitched” - the pegs are flimsy pieces of metal that come out if you so much as cough in their general direction, so I didn’t bother with them this time. My body weight was enough to keep the thing stationary when I was in it. It’s been gently free-ranging around the back garden since then.
Here it is, making friends with the shed. (Yes, I know we need to get the mower out.)
Earlier this evening, Mrs McGingersnap and I were sitting in the living room, enjoying each other’s company in the traditional manner (ignoring each other while interacting with separate screen-based gadgets), when we heard a strange “phhhhfffrumph!” sound coming from outside.
We looked at each other.
“What was that?” I asked.
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew the answer. I jumped up and ran to the patio door.
Friends: not only was the tent no longer in our garden, it wasn’t in our next-door neighbours’ gardens either. Or next-door-but-one’s. Nor was it in the alley behind our house. Mrs McGingersnap has been up and down the streets and into the local allotments.
It is gone.
I wish it well in its bid for freedom. No doubt it’s on its way to a festival. I just hope it doesn’t get caught in traffic - and not for its sake.
