The Bard's Hall Blog Entries June 2023

Hollerin' Day Honoured

         Today a sunny, balmy June offering seemed to be tailor-made for practising National Hollerin' Day. Maybe because at our seasonal campsite we were scurrying hither and yon. We decided to pull out our trailer and tow it to another spot for a new owner to enjoy. In its place we plan to set up a new-to-us camper. The thought and the action are two distinct entities. Much effort had to be expelled, physical, perspiration inducing, muscle tweaking labour.

         "Hey, I need another box. I don't even own this many forks and knives. Have you ever counted what's in this drawer?" shouted my son.

         My grandgiggle Emily bemoaned, "What is all this stuff, Nanna? I returned the Jenga game. Do you know you have two of them?"

         "The super shed is filling up fast. I carried out most of the bins myself, " hooted my daughter-in-law.

         "Whoa, look out! Do we have any spray? I just found a wasp's nest under the step. Uh-huh, I'm not arguing with them," howled Christopher.

         "Do you maybe want to purge a little bit?" yelped hubby as I glowered at the preposterous suggestion.

         As if. Isn't camping all about being prepared? Anything might happen. Blankets, towels, bandages, extra plates and drinking glasses are all necessities. One can never have too much tinfoil, or paper towels.

         "Whatcha doin' neighbour," bellowed an onlooker. "Are you leavin' us?"

         The friendly woman in the next site shouted, "Should I be saying goodbye? Who will lend me their lawnmower now?"

         "Stop, stop!" bellowed my hubby as the pick-up truck strained and surged to wrestle the empty trailer from its five-year resting spot. "Chris take it easy. Straighten it out. This rig hasn't moved anywhere in a while. Coax it out slowly."

          Taking his turn behind the wheel hubby attempted to navigate the hitched camper out onto the dirt road. This required him to practise numerous three-point, finicky turns. He only had to avoid striking other campers, flower pots, trees, vehicles, hydro posts and the curious who'd gathered to gawk. Over and over he inched forward only to inch backwards.

         "That's it. You're getting there," hollered the helpful.

         "Watch out for that shed. It's right behind you," yelled a self-appointed spotter.

         "Seems to me you're in a tight spot," yammered an observer.

         I believe we all released our pent up breath and whooped when hubby pulled away in a cloud of dust.

         Sigh, moving and resettling is never a hoot.