Not in a tent

Had today gone as I had hoped it would, I would have been sitting inside of Wendy on the Pennine Way by now.

Plans went awry when my car failed its MOT (admittedly given its age, the high mileage and the fact that a service was overdue, it was a little optimistic to think that it would pass). The failure wasn’t an irretrievable one, but the necessary certificate came too late in the day to make the journey north.

Add into the mix the fact that I’m so tired that I’m struggling to string a sentence together and driving looked even less advisable. So, I’m at home and Mick’s having his first ever camping adventure without me (except that it seems that he’s in a barn rather than camping; due to a dodgy phone signal I’m a little unclear as to the details of why and what sort of barn).

All is not lost for my plans to give my Neo-Air its first outing. A train ticket has been booked for a ridiculously early hour of morning and if the train companies oblige with timely services there will be a rendez-vous at Stoodley Pike tomorrow.

The unexpected few hours at home has had one bonus: I’ve found the time to mix some sealant and white spirit together to seam-seal my new rucksack liner. It likely won’t be dry in time for me to use it this weekend, but at least the job is done.