I’m trying hard, but this weather is really getting to me now…
Being British, we went camping in the Peak District last week – it wasn’t actually raining when we set off, but it wasn’t long before the dark clouds rolled in and that was pretty much the story from then on.
The lovely man in the Buxton Tandoori (do go there if you’re in the area – excellent take-away), told us that a gale was on its way – we laughed – nervously, then told him we were camping – he looked embarrassed – but it turned out, he was quite right.
The girls managed to fit in their tandem ride on the Tissington Trail, although it has taken me until now to get their clothes clean of the mud they accumulated on the journey. The dog and I leapfrogged them to the car parks – but the dog soon decided it was too wet for him and he’d rather sleep in the car than walk in the pouring rain.
So you won’t be surprised to know that we came home earlier than planned. We simply didn’t have anything dry left to wear, oh and the girls discovered Lake Superior under their part of the tent.
Since we got home, it has continued to pour. The stream near the house has broken its banks and the path to the canal is flooded.
That’s June for you.
I really pity the poor people coming to the UK for the Olympics. Knowing the way things work around here, it will now be wet until about the third week in August (although as the children go back to school during the first week of September, I’d put off your holiday here until at least the second week of September if you want a chance at better weather).
Do I sound like a miserable old grump? Well, that’s what I feel like.
So, here is my only attempt at cheering things up a bit…
This little chap had a good chat with us while we were on our mini-holiday. (Pigs always make me feel happier)
I’ll leave you with the immortal words of Edward Monkton
The Pig of Happiness
May his JOYFUL SMILE remind us how much there is to be happy about –
Good thought, I’ll hold on to that.
Mostly Motley 
Aah, shame – been there and done all that many times! We camped on a mountainside in North Wales in the legendary summer of 1976 and it rained some every day- imagine our shock when we drove back into England to find it scorching hot, browned to a crisp and in drought. If its any consolation we remember it with amusement now!
Glad to know we’re not the only mad people around. I just think it’s all character building and with any luck, the girls will pass the same sort of experiences on to their children and so future generations will have our wet camping trips to thank for their character traits – (well maybe).