So let’s see, we’re at the playpark and I have an extra child. Have to say, it’s a pretty good playpark. Small spent his time going up the climbing centre of the octopus frame and coming down various slides, and then coming over to complain to me about other children not following the rules. It’s something he’s going to have to learn to cope with, but I don’t hold out much hope he’s going to learn it terribly fast.
Big and SB slid and climbed and played and spun. And then somewhere along the way, Big had a spectacular episode of plot loss, and we ended up beating a semi hasty retreat. Back at the encampment she pulled it back together for a while, but lost it beyond recovery a while later, and ended up being sent to get ready for bed, then coming to join us with a book.
Looking back, that should have been a hint that not all was well. But I missed it, and even if I’d seen it, I don’t think there would have been much I could have done.
Small ran with the pack for a while longer, and Helen and Chris fed us all, meaning that I didn’t have the hassle of getting the stove setup which was very much appreciated. I think I’d overdone it a bit during the day, and the idea of setting up the stove from scratch didn’t appeal one little bit.
Sometime during the evening Alison and a truncated portico arrived – lovely to see her. Didn’t get as much catching up as I would have liked though – Small somehow managed to upend a bottle of water over our beds as he was going to bed, and by the time I’d dealt with that, there didn’t seem to be much evening left.
Decided to give up and head to bed, and met a very sorry for herself Big in the tent doorway, on the way out to tell me that she didn’t feel well.
It was quickly apparent that she really wasn’t very well at all. Helen supplied temp controlling painkillers and I chose to make a run for it – 109 miles home seemed like a much better idea than trying to deal with possible swineflu in a field. The other option of heatstroke didn’t appeal much more either.
At that point my friends swung into action, and I’ve never seen a tent stripped as quickly. Within a matter of minutes all that was left was Small still sleeping peacefully, and an empty tent, with everything else packed willy nilly into the car. Chris moved Small and his bed was the final thing we packed up, then it was full speed ahead for home, leaving the tent to the tender mercies of whoever felt like dealing with it the next day.
The roads were, as anticipated, pretty much empty, and the trip home was much quicker than the trip to Wicksteed had been. The last half hour was a bit unpleasant as I started to feel tired, but we made it fine, and transferred sleepy and confused Small to his own bed, and eventually Big (after a slightly dramatic V episode all over the hall floor) into a made up bed in the front room. There are drawbacks to cabin beds and the inability to get down from them quickly is one of them.
So that was very much the end of our Festival of History, not what I had had in mind at all 🙁
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