Friday dawned. Sort of. Instead of the brilliant sunshine of the previous day, the morning managed to do little more than open a rheumy eye before retreating back into a mist of tears. Still, we were not about to let that put a damper on the day. Duly fortified with bacon and eggs, we readied ourselves for our trip south-westwards for the Silent Eye’s Mountains of the Sun weekend. Failing to be my usual Virgoan self, I hadn’t even packed, but managed to cram at least half of the absolute essentials into the weekend bag. I may prefer to travel relatively light, but a spare pair of trousers and shoes would have been useful. The Mountains of the Sun were wet.

The planned weekend would not officially begin until we all converged upon a village in Wiltshire, but everyone was ready so, not wanting to waste the day, we had…