Horror In The Camp
My back is killing me this morning and frankly I blame one of our news reporters. Yesterday Mrs Zed said she had seen Aileen Clarke on the telly talking about the growing popularity of camping. This reminded the Zedettes that my list summer promises had included a camping trip in the Highlands. That, after all, was why we had bought that six person tent in the supermarket two months ago. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Cut to midnight and there I am on a deflated air-bed, writhing inside a sleeping bag while engaged in mortal combat with the biggest daddy-long-legs you've seen outside of an H.G. Wells' novel. The Zedettes are in the adjoining pod playing a giggly game of I-spy.
"..something beginning with T"
"Tent?"
"Yes. Your turn."
Mrs Zed, by the way, is back home, snoozing peacefully under a soft duvet and dreaming about a breakfast of warm croissants.
"Someone has to stay and look after the dog," she had explained.
Meanwhile, back under canvas, the Zedettes had asked for a ghost story and that's when I played my trump card. I pressed a button on my new internet radio and soon we were tuned to . This American station runs old Hollywood radio plays from the forties and fifties..complete with the original adverts for Lux soap flakes and the like. I tell you, there's nothing as creepy as listening to spooky dramas in the dark. It all went quiet pretty quickly.
In the morning, Mrs Zed put in an appearance and told us that breakfast was on the table. We all trooped back into the house. Technically, sleeping in the back garden of our house in Inverness does qualify as an overnight camping trip in the Highlands.
Technically.
Comments
or to comment.