Field

Dear Diary,

I have just had an awkward experience. This woman I knew - I won't say who - invited me to a campfire sing-song thing. Great! Thought I, like a wazzuk. So, we arrived and then felt quite unwelcome, the campers were evidently homogenous.

We arrived in a beaten up stock-car with the three numbers crudely sprayed on the side. Everyone there was completely sober. I soon discovered that we had turned up uninvited, and unannounced. Then it transpired that this was a load of Londoners who were into “Home-education”. This was one of the last places I wanted to be. We went to view the “Celtic roundhouse” that had been under construction for four years, which turned out to be several wobbly modestly sized telegraph poles, cut so they stood shorter than me. Now the mist has descended, and Mr. Barker and I are almost home. Thank God.

Max.