So, it is possible to survive a pretty loopy storm in a tent, as long as the tent is posh. I lay awake for three hours last night, thinking it was going to blow away and working through various scenarios if it did:
1) the whole thing blows away and I will need to grab dogs, wellies and kids. Partner can sort himself out.
2) it blows away and as it does, a large piece of metal hits one of us on the head – I didn’t have any solution for this one. I just thought about how guilty I would feel, as the camping trip was my idea
3) next door’s tent blows away and we have to help with their rescue operation. I imagined that I would be useful in a panicky sort of way
All this thinking was exhausting me, so I took a break at 2am to join the kids, who were all now assembled on the sofa, for hot chocolate. They didn’t look concerned, just Famous Fiveish, but with an extra dog. I went and gave the tent mechanics a cursory look and they looked pretty solid, despite the fact that it felt like it was about to take off. I decided to do something useful, so I kept the fire going. By now it was 4am and I’d had enough of being scared that one of us/all of us may die, so I pulled dog 1 onto my head to muffle the noise and went to sleep.
I got an e mail from little sister, sent at 6.30am, subject: Welfare Check (you can tell she’s a police inspector) it read: Omg. I can’t believe you are in a tent. Let me know you’re all alive xxxxx – it’s good to know she cares.
Yes, we’re alive! We’re dirty, we probably stink like hell and you could fry an egg on our heads, but we’re alive 😃
