Every year since we started our daft weekends under canvas, I have taken a photograph of Steve next to the (various) tents, with a mug/glass/ bottle in hand. It used to be a coffee mug while breakfast sizzled. Then we gave up on cooking, when we (i.e. Steve) began the Upton Blues Festival weekends. When in Upton-upon-Severn, a full English breakfast at Banjos is a must.

The taxi usually gets us back to the site at about 12.30. Nice families are asleep, preparing for a new day of wholesome experiences. What they don't anticipate is the dark sonic rumble of us (mainly me), in the middle of their night. At the end of a blues day, fuelled by beer,wine,and cod philosophy - fuelled by the aforementioned, we have a few glasses of red, whilst bemoaning the whole concept of camping. Our neighbours should see the warning signs. Even positioning our tent in a far corner does not work. Some dipstick still erects their adobe next to us. Maybe a sign saying "unclean " would do it. Knowing our luck, we would get a missionary as a neighbour.