It's always risky camping in England, even in June, witness the muddy shenanigans of the Glastonbury festival-goers who have to take copious supplies of dried grass with them to ameliorate the discomfort of all the wet grass they're sleeping on.
And we have had sunshine and blue sky and niceness, but these have been transitory interludes in the conveyor belt of rodding great thunderstorms that may or may not be the meteorological revenge of the discarded Europeans. We did a big hike and got totally caught in the monsoon miles from camp.
1. Ground sodden after 'locally heavy downpours' have made the outfield treacherous.
2. Blue sky alert! The umpires and the Sky TV cameras witness the tossing of the coin and the arrival of the players on a lovely sunny Saturday, with mascot and flag-waving kiddies and 2 chaps with beer-keg backpacks full of Carlsberg lager touring the stands selling their hoppy wares.
4. 17 1/2 inches of rain fall in an hour, accompanied by lightning and, a couple of drenched hours later, by a desultory pitch inspection and abandonment of the match without a ball being bowled.
This is what happened, on and off, for the duration. But it cleared up for us and we managed to get the campfire burning which is of course the teamwork-glue of camaraderie that binds us together. The many Fuel-Units that we delivered to the campsite proved their worth and songs of victory were sung especially if you're Welsh or Portuguese.