Early start

I've been seeing my sons off to music festivals for ten years now and have long ago lost count of all the equipment and possessions that have gone astray: broken, jettisoned, stolen or forgotten in some distant muddy field. (Although the post festum scavenging of abandoned gear sometimes reaps a good harvest to compensate.)

Here's my younger son setting off to catch the 7.30am bus and join his brother heading for Cornwall and the first festival of the year. The bag he's holding contains the hot bacon and egg sarnies I've just made that they'll scoff before they reach the railway station.

For me the day turned into a long work session in the garden. Mowing the grass led to weeding which became clipping, cutting, sawing and doing battles with brambles. The weather was beautiful but the dog waited in vain for an outing and a late afternoon downpour put paid to his hopes.
Some of the wilderness went to make my supper: nettle soup.