I enjoyed that, made me chortle and nod with some recognition.

It bit me a couple of years back one sunny Sunday when I packed tarp (purchased from STW classifieds) and rode up into the Hills. Slipped away from the crowds and ‘disappeared’ into some rhododendrons over a little rise not half a mile from a car-park. Out came the new sil-nylon micro-tarp, a roll of paracord and my SAK. Cut some cord, forgot knot-lore, tied tarp to some branches using idiotic pseudo-knots. Lay propped on an elbow, sliding imperceptibly down a gentle slope. Had a momentary OOBE flash of self-awareness and saw an overweight middle-aged man squeezed under a drab-green nylon handkerchief gazing at some sycamore and holly trees*. I remember an exposed tree root hurting my elbow, right before (gently) admitting defeat and cycling ten minutes back home. It didn’t even rain.

Much prefer tent-camping with friends and cheer.

*Sycamore and holly are the most boring woodland companions.