(no subject)

Off to Glade, with tent, sleeping bag and rolled-up mat strapped precariously to the back of my rucksack. The sun's just come out. The BBC five-day forecast shows a row of little sunny faces for the whole weekend. There shall be fun and glowing things and tea from tin mugs and dancing under the sky and making friends with trees (probably) and people I like lots and then next week there shall be even more fun. This is turning into the sort of summer you refer to many years later, with a happy sigh, as "ah, yes, the summer of [insert year here]".

See you soon, probably with more blurry cameraphone pictures of fluorescent butterflies.

Life's too good. What's the catch?