Brave at Bowood

Posted on 9th June 2015

I set off on Thursday in the trusty Volvo with a Treble swing frame, and a Single, a Cliffhanger, a Frammock, Nest, Donut (uninflated - but still) a range of pillows and my Log basket for Bowood.

I had secured a BnB, the weather was lovely and my actual time of departure was within shouting distance of the ETD.

The drive was unremarkable, but Bowood's drive is not and at the end of it fluttered silken flags and around them milled exhibitors in the final stages of preparation.


My plot was nothing like it was in my imagination, the silken flags had not featured either, in fact it was those flags that shredded my expectations.  I had not been aware till then that I had imagined how it was going to be, but as an example of reality crushing fancy they did so very pleasantly indeed.

I was next to a tent, its great blank wall missing the banner I did not make, a deliberate lack.

I had also left behind a small bag of bolts (and clips, and blobs, nuts, washers, tools!)

Though looking back on it I realised that I have rarely felt more alive than those next cursed minutes.  I nicked bolts (and blobs) from a Knobbly Leg, clips from the Swurl, left off washers and got the frames up with 40 minutes to spare. 

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