Up at seven forty five

Up at seven forty five to a cuppa. Sgonna be a scorcher. Already warm. One or two campers sat outside their vans/tents but none of our crowd. Sat outside the moho meself. The flag that yesterday flew brightly now hangs limp with barely a breath of wind to stir it.

Slight nuisance last night as our water pump stopped working. Nowt obvious but I have a message from CamperUk with a few things to try. Could be beyond the capabilities of a Tref but there are blokes in our party who are skilled at such things. See how it goze.

Chiffchaffs and robins chatter noisily, joined now by a wren, chaffinch and nuthatch. The latter is a new one for me and am quite pleased to hear it. Forest living. The occasional sound of a gunshot is heard. This was also evident yesterday but I suspect it is a bird scarer rather than an actual gun.

Anne Marie was apaz very good. Some of the ladies in our party went and returned just as I was hitting the hay. The mattress on the bed contains no hay. That turn of phrase presumably goes back a while. Sting tonight. Full turnout.

No shade on this side of the moho. Suppose I could move but the door is on this side. Not too warm yet. If it stayed this temperature all day I would be happy.

Today is Sunday.

In a break with camping tradition I had a shower before breakfast. Breakfast can wait. There is no rush. What’s the hurry? Relax and don’t you worry. THG is making a cuppa.

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