Pit stop

One more wet strike, one more soggy tent sitting in my parents' house dripping gently, one van smelling of rain and mud.
Seven loads of washing steaming gently in every available nook and cranny.

Two tired children.
Lots of good memories.
One mountain of camping equipment waiting to be filed away somewhere.
One lesser mountain of smarter clothing etcetera needing to be sorted into suitcases.

A small heap of medications all requiring clear ziplock bags.

One ridiculously early start tomorrow.

Have I forgotten anything?
( kindly ignore the spelling mistakes; old envelopes do not have spellcheck capabilities)

Tia