Singing roofboxes and sighing mothers

Sunday, August 10 08

"Listen, the roof box is singing!" informed Mr Bennet. Sure enough a tuneful melody was ringing from the car roof. However it only chose to sing as long as the Bennets travelled at 40MPH, because as soon as Mr Bennet pressed his foot on the accelerator, the roof top lost its sense of rhythm and instead gave out a monotonous groan. Once stationary (i.e. when they had arrived at the exposed camping field), the Bennet girls decided the wind whistling in the gap between the roof and the box, made it sound as if it was snoring.
Mrs Bennet was trying hard to get excited about this trip. "Why does anyone want to go camping when the forecast is rain, rain and more rain? Why do we want to swap our already too small house for a 20ft long tent, which has to fit in two travel cots, five children, two adults and too much "stuff?" May be the word "want" is the wrong word," she silently debated, "well, it is in my case."
The wind was strong. So strong it lifted Mrs Bennet off the ground as she hopelessly and helplessly tried to assist her tent neighbour friends by holding down a tent pole as they pegged their Tent Mansion down. She was secretly glad they were pitched next door as it proved an excellent bolt hole, a dry place for baby twin crawling races and a fantastic wine tasting venue.
By 8.15pm she decided she would enjoy rather endure this camping expedition - although in the days to come this decision was to be severely tested.