Sometimes we like to go to castles and re-enact the Middle Ages. Sometimes our friends come with us.
And when it’s
really nice even adequate outside, we like to camp. You can sleep in the castle, in the room where Mary, Queen of Scots once slept (we did, in February), but it’s awfully dusty.
So this time we camped. Given my tendencies in this direction, it was the obvious choice. We (I) regret nothing.
The company was especially good.
I left the kitchen sink outside the tent in hopes that it would dry. Or at the very least, be wet outside the tent instead of inside. I put it out clean, but in the morning, it seemed rather muddier inside than the mild overnight rain would account for. I suspected fowl play. (I still regret nothing.)
NTS reported that during the night, the runner ducks had huddled under the eaves of our tent, enjoying the shelter of the rain fly. Though you wouldn’t think ducks would mind the rain much. When they started pecking at the walls of the tent, though, he unzipped the door a few inches and waved them off. (Ok, I regret that I didn’t see that. I bet it was hilarious.) I like the idea of cuddling up with ducks.