I see they're looking for a new James Bond. I'm thinking of throwing my hat in the ring.
Well why not? I'm sophisticated, suave, cool under pressure, and smart, right?
Oh who am I kidding? Last night I got locked in a car park. Trust me, Daniel Craig, your job is pretty much safe.
It's our annual camp, The Gathering, and for the first time (mostly due to last year's experience) I decided not to camp but to drive in from home.
And drive out again at the end of the day... provided somebody hasn't locked the gate and, crucially, gone to sleep with the key, in their tent.
My heart plummeted as I stood there rattling the chain, illuminated by the headlamps. Why do these things keep happening to me? I asked the stars.
The stars didn't know. They were as silent as always when I lose my keys, call the AA guy to check whether they're locked in the boot and then find them somewhere else, or when I drop my phone in a muddy field and comb the rainy campsite for it, or when I accidentally drive into a farmer's field and get mistaken for a 'traveller' while staring at shotgun. The stars have no idea.
In the end, I messaged a load of people who (after expressing varying degrees of sympathy and hilarity) all told me whom I should wake up. It was Mike and Kathie. So Emmie (who was still up) helped me to do that. Mike opened the gate and I shot through like a rocket.
"It's all part of the richness of the tapestry of your life," said Graham this morning in the café tent. I silently nodded. Then Gareth walked by, beaming at me, hilariously.
I bet nobody needs to say that to Daniel Craig.
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