Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson go on a camping trip. After a good dinner and a bottle of wine, they retire for the night, and go to sleep.
Some hours later, Holmes wakes up and nudges his faithful friend. "Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."
"I see millions and millions of stars, Holmes" replies Watson.
"And what do you deduce from that?"
Watson ponders for a minute.
"Well, astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful, and that we are a small and insignificant part of the universe. What does it tell you, Holmes?"
Holmes is silent for a moment. "Watson, you idiot!" he says. "Someone has stolen our tent!"
As the rain was absolutely thrashing Wanda's backside and the wind came at us like a freight train we were having a fit of the giggles. I don't know what I have been doing with my life, but I hadn't heard it before... I am not sure what time of night it was; it must have been somewhere around three or four in the morning.
We were both wrapped up in our sleeping bags with Piglet wrapped in Shirl's down smock. "So how did this aging lothario end up with a slip of a girl in his tent in the wee small hours?" I hear you ask. Ah. That's a good question. And I shall try to explain, m'lud.
I last left you grasping a cup of hot chocolate made by 'Nurse' as we watched, seemingly in slow motion, the rescue by torchlight of a chap from the upper slopes of Great Gable. Before long, the balmy evening took a turn for the worse and soon the winds were gusting like cows hitting the tent and then it started to rain. And Rain , And Rain like it had never rained before like there had been a national shortage of rain and now we were stockpiling just in case there wasn't going to be any more Rain for a year or three.
Shirl managed some food, but I was too far gone with complete and utter knackeredness to bother with anything other than some Granola bars and soup, again provided by Nurse from her kitchen in her Akto. After coming back into my ward with the soup, I sensed an air of concern.
"What gives, fair lady?"
"My tent is parked on a bog and the porch is ankle deep in water and I think it's going to float away or sink without trace into the bog."
Nothing for it then. Gentleman that I am, I shoved over and Shirl 'manfully' dragged her mattress and sleeping bag into my tent, which seemed to be above the level of the swamp we had parked Shirl's Akto on.
The noise of the rain smashing into Wanda (for new readers, that's Wanda Warmlite, my little plastic Wendy House) was quite incredible and Shirl tried to record it on her little Dictaphone - we could hardly hear each other lying side by side over the incredibly thrashing splattery maelstrom!
Fortunately, when I was pitching Wanda, I had the foresight to use one of my trekking poles as the rear peg, anchored some twenty inches into the mountain to brace against the huge gusts, so we were secure.
With two and a dog in a torrential storm, I can now see why Gayle & Mick found their Wendy problematical. The increased condensation in the windward single skin end cone is battered away from the sil-nylon and there is a very faint mist (not unpleasant) that starts to dampen things. Not too much of a problem as I just used my pac-towel to mop things up. I also realised that my seam-sealing all those years ago in a freezing night in February perhaps was no longer up to the job as there was an irritating drip which added to the wateriness and hilarity of the situation.
To give her her due, Wanda behaved stunningly. We clipped in the internal storm guys so she was as solid as a rock. Shirl behaved stunningly well too. So did our chaperone, Piglet. It was a very long, sleepless night telling dreadful jokes and giggling like kids.
Quite a perfick getaway!