By: Blonde Two
Why does it always rain on me? Dummkopf Blonde Two, it always rains on you because you insist on going to Dartmoor which is, of course, the place where rain was invented.
Blonde One and I borrowed a fantastic tent for our Isle of Man expedition. Imagine your average sized bungalow (without the jazzy carpets), our tent was bigger, had more doors and had a much nicer welcome mat. It was, however, an elderly tent and did have a few problems, some of which led to a bit of extreme, mid-pitch, sewing.
It also had a few leaks (nothing too serious) which led to Blonde One’s creative use of towels, spare groundsheets and a few ladylike expletives.
I was discussing the difference between sleeping in a truck and sleeping in a tent yesterday and suggested that the main advantage was that trucks did not let water in if it rained. I was proved wrong by Mr Blonde Two’s reminder that during a trip to Iceland, he was regularly dripped on through the sunroof of Daisy the Discovery.
Apartments are good, neither of our Austrian apartments dripped water on our heads.
I woke up this morning to discover that houses are not so good. Our roof is leaking far more than any truck or tent that I have ever been in. I am considering moving out into the garden!
Whoops! Reminds me of a house in Christchurch Road that had valley guttering problems!
Ooh, nasty!
Or a campervan in Herefordshire that spent a fortnight being shrouded in tarpaulins at every campsite.
Or a certain beeootiful and much-missed boat, that used to have a flooded port locker all year round. Starboard one was all right. Never did find the leak, but canoeists’ dry-bags alleviated the situation.