Yesterday I drove six hours straight to get to the campsite as quickly as possible. The weather was promising to be good and we were looking forward to a complete break in another beautiful part of Scotland.

The site was busy, but we managed to find a lovely, quiet corner. To camp we have a neat contraption in the back of our car that becomes a bed, or a table. The two foster boys with us were going to be sleeping in the tent and we got it out immediately. And…um….we had left the poles behind. Oh shit.

No matter. Very close by there was space between four large trees. With a little bit of exciting tree climbing, guy ropes, and some dodgy knots we managed to pitch it in a fashion. All was fine.

The boys were happily ensconced inside when a site warden came cycling past to tell us that, not only couldn’t we tie the guys to the very sturdy trees, but nor could we sleep in the back of our car.

I was summoned to speak to the Park Commandant, I mean manager. She was very much an Upholder Of The Rules, with No Mercy Whatsoever. The options were either: go and buy a 4 person tent or, probably, painful torture and a stretch of solitary confinement.

We decided not to stay, got our money back, and, because everywhere was so busy, ended up driving another 2 hours further to stay in a family room at a premier inn in Aberdeen. From where I write to you now.

Folks, you need to realise something. No amount of songwriting or promotion of music in the community will allow you to escape the need to learn this very important lesson: DON’T FORGET THE TENT POLES!