At the start…
Arrive first.
“Ooh, aah, wonderous nature!”
Relax.
Put up new tent.
Relax some more.
Friends arrive.
Much swearing ensues during tent erection period.
Drink beer.
Make dinner.
Laugh at antics of made-inept-by-anger friends.

Later…
Gusty.
Tent fucked.
Drink beer.
Begin tent resurrection.
Much swearing ensues and friends snicker.
“I don’t want your advice, this tent is a piece of crap, obviously!”
Tent resurrected, looks a bit shabby.
“Don’t say a fucking word!”
Beer.

Very early morning…
Gentle pitter patter of raindrops.
“Ooh that’s nice.”
Take a photo (virtually the only photo from the weekend).
Buckets down.
“Shit!”
Tent leaks.
Gear wet.
Little bit pissed off.
Refuse offers of alternate accomodation.
Because I can look after myself!

Later still…
Travel to big town.
Buy newer, bigger, stronger, kick-arse tent.
Whilst away male friends surmise tent demise due to female installation.
Arrive back and find a resurrected tent (you helpful idiots did you not realise how this would piss me off?)
Thank yous through clenched teeth.
Fortuitous wind gust.
Tent fucked.
“Oh…it is a piece of crap.”
Put up new tent.
Lovely tent, home away from home tent.
Wind gusts.
Tent a-ok.
Relax.