There’s surely little more scrumptious than a sausage cooked on a camp fire, then wrapped in a buttered slice of bread with some chopped fried onion and tomato sauce. Follow this with a hot cup of tea or coffee made with water boiled in a tin hung over the hot embers. It’s summer! It’s evening! There are a few mosquitoes but the insect repellent keeps most at bay. All that’s needed now is a competent guitarist to complete the spell. A little sing-along and a bit of yarn telling and all is perfect.
Rufus and Trina with their two children had been camping for a week. Twice a man had come along and told them to move, but they hadn’t budged. Apparently they were not permitted to have a camp fire where they were, or to erect a tent. Rufus had used some choice words at the man, which had prompted Trina both times to say, “For goodness sake, Rufus, not in front of the children.” It made little difference; Rufus gave the man a piece of his mind in a way that only Rufus could.
It was nearing the time they would have to move. The camping food supply was getting low, as was wood for the fire. Camping on their driveway after the catastrophic earthquake was only a temporary measure. But where to go?