INUNDATION
The sky exuded a melancholy that tried its best to chip away at my enthusiasm. Whilst putting up a tent in drizzle could be described as sobering, I was grateful that the conditions looked resigned to this state - it felt as if the weather and I had reached a mutual agreement, whereby it would not be vindictive as long as it was granted the victory of slightly curbing my gusto. However, it was not long before my companion began to breach the terms of our deal; the rain began to come down far harder. The water lashed against my forehead as I became progressively begrudging towards a tent pole which had - rather unstoically - conceded defeat to the situation.The tent was in a state of semi- construction, with the outer layer drooping precariously over a puddle whose movements suggested it had ambitions upon the two-metres-by-four plot of land that was to be my place of residence for the next few days. Having finally goaded the pole into co-operation and placed the upper layer over the inner tent, I withdrew into my fragile, fabric residence, determined to escape the increasingly treacherous conditions. However, the satisfaction I took from having seemingly evaded the elements was premature. A solitary dribble, which had found its way through the back of the tent, whimsically drifted its way towards the front, evidently unaware of the anguish it would cause me. I smothered it with a towel, hoping that this action would somehow negate the onslaught of trickles that I faced over the night. I placed a mat down,with my sleeping bag on top, and tried to sleep. However the prospect of the water’s planned campaign meant any form of relaxation was impossible. The drips eroded
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