Last night we survived our first proper thunderstorm in the tent.

Usefully, we’d gone down an internet hole a few weeks ago reading about how safe we’d be in our tent if a storm hit. ‘Not very’ was the resounding answer. We tried to use the lightning safety tips we’d learnt anyway. This involved:

  • clutching a walking boot each for 2 hours in the misguided hope that the rubber soles would ground us
  • crouching in unsustainable positions in our attempts to stay low without having too much of our bodies touching the ground
  • Roz muttering at least 3 full renditions of ‘My Favourite Things’
  • some terribly mis-timed farts that we’d mistakenly hoped the noise of the thunder would hide