The forecast for our weekend reunion with university friends was grey and drizzly. We met up with Nick and Jackie en route.
“Do we know yet whether we’re in a yurt or a tipi?”
“I hope it’s a yurt – with this rain I don’t want to faff
about with smoke flaps and being open to the sky.”
We elected to follow
their SatNav even though we are sceptical. The very fact that we doubted the SatNav should have ensured it got us there safely,
but we ended up with the car nosing into a lane that said “unsuitable for motor
vehicles.”
“Marvellous,” we cried, “Just like the stories.”
We got so lost trying to bypass the “unsuitable” track that
we gave up and adjourned to a nearby pub.
Was it my imagination or did everybody else in there look bewildered
too?
“Do you think the pub has somehow interfered with the SatNav
signal to collect more custom?”
Outside, rain spattered the windows.
“If we’re in a tipi, I’m turning straight round and driving
home,” I announced.
Nick, Jackie and Nigel laughed nervously.
When, finally, we arrived in the wood with the tipis and the
yurts, the site owner showed us to our… tipi!
Thankfully there was a wood-burning stove amid the rugs and
cushions. Perhaps we would survive
after all. In fact, although I’d been
beefing about the tipi, what was worrying me more was how we would get on with
all our strong-charactered friends for a long weekend. Time to walk down to the clearing and find
out.
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