And they Swam and the Swam Right Over the Damn

To say it was wet on Monday was an understatement.

The rain had already begun to fall on Sunday evening when Si arrived with the tent. After getting the tent up, and getting himself soaked in the process, he sat, dripping wet and waited for the arrival of Tooli and Me.

I had to pick Tooli up from work, pick up a few last minute essentials - most of which I forgot, but I remembered the gin, which is okay.

We ran from the car, bag in hand, and skidded across the saturated grass, and tumbled head first into the tent.

A couple more runs and we were as wet as Si was, and we sat down, threw a couple of gins down my throat, and then hit the blow up mattress.

When we awoke on Monday, the rain was heavier than it had been the night before. The damp patch of grass outside our tent was a puddle. The mountain stream behind the tent was a raging torrent.

We opened the front door and gazed out at the downpour. And the wet people walking past. And the duck who took up residence in the puddle in our door. And the wet dogs. The people in the shop said, we would get a prize if we stayed any longer. We didn't get one.

I'm glad we stayed. At 8.30, about 30 hours of rain, it stopped. And the sun came out. But the sun coming out, and the rain stopping, meant that Si and Tooli had to withdraw from their covert people watching.