FRENZY by Mark King
Saturday night I closed my eyes with the sound of the tent ruffling in the wind. I drifted off to sleep quite quickly. Suddenly I was woken up by one all mighty gush of wind that nearly lifted the tent. I closed my eyes hoping it would be a one off, but the wind got stronger. That wasn't the only problem, two days of mixing large amounts of cider and beef also had a similar effect on my stomach, and there was a constant rumbling of wind inside my sleeping bag as well as outside.
The howls of wind kept getting stronger. My daughter had been told by Grand-Dad that he had heard there were gale force winds forecast for parts of the country over the weekend, but the wife and I laughed away her news. Boy o boy were we wrong. Now my wife can sleep for England, a nuclear bomb could go off and she would sleep through it, so when she was also kept awake by the terrible noise of the wind, rustling trees, and flapping tent I thought we may be in for trouble!
A one stage I had visions we would all end up just like in the film The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy is caught inside the wooden shack as it is lifted into the air, and goes around, and around in a cyclone. I expected to wake in the morning, stick my head outside to find I was in a brightly coloured world surrounded by Munchkin men singing in high pitched voices as they danced gaily around the tent.
Dusk duly arrived and I'm still not sure if I got any sleep at all that night; all I know is that once again I was tired, stiff, and in pain. But and as I always say there is always a but, when the children climbed out of their sleeping bags with big wide smiles, oblivious to the previous night storm, and these smiles showed they were still loving every moment of being with their mother and father; once again the memories, frustrations, aches and pains fade away.