Good Morning from Summer Solstice Camp

I’m writing this with a mug of tea in hand, a smile on my face, and the faint smell of bacon drifting across the campsite like some kind of breakfast-based religious experience.

Yesterday was the first day of our Summer Solstice gathering and, honestly, it was one of those days that reminds me why communities matter.

The children disappeared almost immediately.

Not in a worrying safeguarding-report-to-Viking-Dave kind of way. More in the traditional summer-camp way where they discover a pond, form an alliance, and become semi-aquatic creatures for the rest of the day. Every time I looked over, there seemed to be another splash, another game, another adventure unfolding. By teatime they had somehow managed to acquire that wonderful combination of muddy feet, huge smiles and seemingly endless energy.

Meanwhile, the adults had a mission.

The new marquee arrived.

Now, when someone says they’ve bought a marquee, you imagine a tent.

This wasn’t a tent.

This thing was so enormous I’m fairly certain a small housing estate could comfortably fit inside it.

What followed was one of my favourite naturist traditions: several people standing around confidently giving instructions while simultaneously holding the instruction sheet upside down.

To be fair, after much laughter, teamwork, occasional confusion and at least three people saying “I think this bit goes here,” the giant structure was successfully assembled.

And that’s the thing I love.

Nobody was told they had to help.

People simply did.

That’s friendship in its most natural form.

As evening arrived, tea appeared, and with it came crumpets and jam.

Lots of crumpets.

Enough crumpets to satisfy even the most committed carb enthusiast.

People gathered, chatted, laughed and shared stories while Busker Dave worked his usual magic with a guitar and a collection of songs that somehow everybody knows the words to, even when they’re convinced they don’t.

Not far away, Jason the Magician was eagerly preparing for a DJ set later in the evening.

Unfortunately, in his excitement he committed what may prove to be the greatest tragedy of the weekend.

He forgot to get himself a crumpet.

I’m not sure recovery from such a devastating loss is possible.

Thoughts and prayers.

The dogs were having an equally wonderful time. Tess, Ted and Bandit have become minor celebrities.

At any given moment one of them could be found accepting fuss, collecting treats, supervising activities or generally behaving as though the entire event had been organised specifically for their benefit.

To be fair, they’re probably right.

Then there was young Peter.

Peter spent much of the day repeatedly losing his nuts.

Now before your imagination runs away with itself, we’re talking about actual nuts.

At least that was his intention.

Unfortunately every explanation somehow sounded worse than the last, and by the fifth time he announced he’d “lost his nuts again” the entire campsite had given up pretending not to laugh.

Poor Peter.

He tried.

He really did.

And failed magnificently.

As for Tanya… do you want a kettle?

Well.

Tanya had forms to complete.

Important forms.

Official forms.

Serious forms.

Unfortunately, sunshine happened.

And somehow the forms remained largely untouched while Tanya spent the day enjoying herself.

There were also rumours that a rather unfortunate cold breeze found its way to a particularly delicate location, resulting in approximately fifteen emergency visits to the toilet.

These reports remain unverified.

Mostly because Tanya would probably make me fill in a form if I investigated further.

I’m just

Now, as I sit here this morning watching the campsite slowly come to life, I’m becoming increasingly excited about what today will bring.

Body painting.

Crafts.

Games.

Magic.

Music.

Friendship.

Laughter.

The programme is full, but the activities are only part of the story.

The real magic of weekends like this isn’t what happens on the timetable.

It’s what happens between the timetable.

The conversations over tea.

The friendships forming around picnic tables.

The smiles shared across a field.

The people arriving as strangers and leaving as friends.

That’s the real magic.

Although Jason will probably argue that his magic is the real magic.

We’ll let him have that one.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to investigate exactly how much bacon has appeared overnight.

Based on current estimates, breakfast may require planning permission.

Happy Saturday everyone.

See you around the campsite.

— Eira

“Come as you are. Leave with great memories.”