After I pitched my tent at Glastonbury last year I realised that it was about the same size as the tents of people in their 20s. People in their thirties had tents with room to stretch their arms, people in their forties had tents they could almost stand up in, people in their fifties had huge bell tents and people in their sixties had camper vans. 

When I got home, I gave away my loyal little tent.

For this year I planned to take our huge old family tent but when, about a month ago, I realised it was too heavy for me to carry, I set about trying to borrow something lighter. To no avail until I woke with a start in the middle of Saturday night, remembering my old friend/ex-landlady. I messaged her, and today she gave me lunch and a choice of tents. 

I have no lawn on which to learn how to pitch the one I chose to borrow, so I moved the table and chairs and tried it in the kitchen. Guy ropes tied at one end to the cooker handle and at the other end to the back of a chest. 

It fits in my rucksack, it's only 4.5 kg, and I think I now know how it works!