A mug of tea works wonders

 

 

Subject: A mug of tea works wonders.


There was a cold wind blowing from the east as the lads wrestled with the flapping tent. The clouds were scudding across the sky bringing a first hint of rain to the weekend which had started out so bright. The bikes were grouped together, like cattle in a storm as preparations were made for what was seeming to be a long disturbed night.
Each of the boys were fairly apprehensive, it being their first night camping together other than in the municipal camp site with its ablution block and hot shower, this time the ground sloped away to a stream which fed the lake about a hundred yds away and whilst they tried to secure the guy ropes as best they could, they instinctively knew that a real storm would prove difficult.
Still they were happy to be away from the constraints of parents and it seemed a great adventure to be let loose from adult control and have to fend for themselves.

The wind picked up as the first spots of rain sprinkled the tent and they retired into the security of each of two tents, Bill and Tony were in one tent John and Ian were in the other. They hadn’t had time to cook something to eat when a nearby tree lost one of its branches just as the lightening lit up the sky and the thunder rolled in about a minute later. Crack, the thunder seemed right overhead only increasing their sense of vulnerability but at the same time increasing their resolve not to show fear. As the wind picked up so did the rain and what had seemed a quiet stream became an angry force of nature, swelling its banks and flooding the field. Already in their sleeping bags the water dripped from the canvas tenting and formed rivulets into the tent itself forcing the boys to try to find any dry section of the groundsheet in an effort to find somewhere dry to sleep.

The wind roared and the rain lashed down unceasingly until the darkness gave way to dawn and their sodden surroundings could be assessed. Let’s get the some water boiling and have tea. A mug of tea works wonders.
The field in which they had pitched the tent had been transformed by the storm into nightmare of twisted branches tossed about by the wind, the stream was a torrent twice as wide as the night before, swirling and eddying buffeting its banks as the water rushed towards the lake. The wildlife must have been deranged to see their nests broken and the snug burrows flooded. How many of their young survived the storm but then that’s nature in the raw, a constant need to adapt.

We on the other hand had homes to return to and parents keen to hear of our experience so packing away the tent we loaded the bikes and set off to Biggleswade and a cafe for a bacon, egg, sausage and toast breakfast.