We’re halfway through the afternoon and I suddenly realize that I have nothing to write about. Hmm. Now what? Do I go hunting for trouble or just start making things up?

I decide that both of these options sound like far too much effort. Opt to drag a lawn chairdown to the river instead.

While in the river we chat it up with a couple of drunks who are squirting (or just flinging the contents of their waterbottles) at each other, and us. A bit later, we’re confronted by security, telling us that we can’t have glass bottles in the river. (Ours were actually plastic.)

My mother spends the rest of the afternoon telling anyone and everyone that we fell afoul of security. See? I’m not the only one who thinks today’s been boring.

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Wake up bright and early this morning. (If I keep saying that, it’s because it’s hard NOT to wake up early when you’re tenting. On account of it being, uh, bright.) Stumble out of the tent to find the dog and the rest of the neighbours comfortably sprawled out on lawn chairs. Theorize that my mother will have drunk them out of coffee by the end of the week.

A drunk girl wanders by. She’s very loud and enthusiastic. Enthusiastic enough that I doubt her vocabulary extends beyond four-letter-words. Or, well, one four-letter-word, anyway.

Today is our last chance to stock up on groceries. I don’t really want to leave the campgrounds, but my mother refuses to go into town without me, even though my sense of direction isn’t any better than hers.

I go anyway, of course. To put this in perspective: My mother needs me to tell her where to go. * Of course I’m coming.

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