No, not some weak homoerotic phrasing there.

I literally mean… we’re meant to be camping, outside, at the mercy of the elements — but… we now lack a tent.

Because we’re in the middle of ‘the worst storm this year’.

We had a tent 24 hours ago. Then, about 12 hours ago, when I went to check on it,  there was no tent. There was evidence of where a tent might have once been — some pegs, some shattered rods from its exoskeleton… but not much else.

Obviously, at 4 in the morning, with driving, horizontal sleet-rain it’s fairly hard to get your bearings. So two of us ended up in the car, where I’m told it got very, very cold — and two of us slept inside, under our computer desks.

Sadly there are no photos… because I didn’t take my camera outside into the hurricane-force winds.

I currently look very dishevelled, and in the words of my cousin: ‘like some kind of 1980s sex machine’.

I’m not sure what we’re doing tonight… maybe I can just sneak into someone else’s tent and pretend I know them…

‘Alright mate! Yeah! Sorry, I’m a bit drunk… great game we had earlier eh? You totally owned those noobs. Anyway, we should get some sleep, yeah.’

The seeking of solace and the end of religion
12 of 52

Sebastian

I am a tall, hairy, British writer who blogs about technology, photography, travel, and whatever else catches my eye.

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