1 Enforced intimacy
�Crikey, small isn�t it? And it�s definitely a two-man? Really? Wow. Looked bigger than that in the photo. So both of us are going to have to�right, yep. So which side do you want? Shall we go top to tail, or� [cough]�head to�oh, we�ll figure it out when we�re in there. So�do you want to go first, or, um�[cough]�
2 The realisation that nature is a crock
Plick. Plick. Plickaplickaplickaplickaplishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
We all know this feeling. After a day of dry and sun, the second tent peeps from stuffsack, the black clouds converge like vultures on a lion kill. That�s the cue for calm air to liven into a banshee of crosswinds, assaulting you from multiple directions to make pitching your tent less dignified than juggling mud.
3 Zip distress
How many zips does the damn tent need? Unzip your sleeping bag. Unzip zip one of the mozzie net doors. Why is it still zipped? Ah. Zip two zips it shut again, so you have unzip zip two just to get to zip one of the inner zip door, which is all the way over the other side of the tent so you grab zip two of the outer door zip to find it�s snagged on the mozzie net so you have to go back to zip zip one and unzip zip that zip and then zip�the outer zips. Grrrr. Knife! Now!
4 Mystifying moisture
I mean, really, aren�t tents supposed to keep you dry? Between the beads of condensation hanging like gargoyles from the ceiling, the see-saw canals that scurry up and down the sides of the tent with every movement, the is-it-wet-or-just-really-cold patting of the tent floor and the dew that�s everywhere the second you wake up, you really may as well save pack-weight and sleep in the rain�
5 The fear
�There it is again! Wake up, will you?�
Of all the things rational thought tells you it could be � a fox, a bird, the snot creaking around in Roy�s sinuses � you just know that whatever goes �snrike� in the Snowdonia night is definitely a large monster with a perverse interest in your tent and its occupants. What else could it be?
10pm. I can hold it.
11pm. I can hold it.
12pm. I can hold it.
1am. I can hold it.
2am. I can hold it.
3am. Can�t hold it. Gotta go.
7 Geological frustration
Funny that beneath the 2 square millimetres of soil you want to plunge your last tent peg into, there�s a small but stubborn rock. And that in order to avoid said rock, you would have to remove the pegs already in, jostle the tent a few inches to the left, then repeg it, only to find that a different peg is now hitting a rock. And when finally you triumphantly find four rockless corners, it�s only because all the rocks have scurried into a knot just under your sleeping mat�
8 Renewed awareness of the processes of digestion
Never mind the fact that sleeping an inch from your camp-mate has the unfortunate side-effect of you being able to hear every pop, creak and woyoooiiiiiiing emanating from their restless bowels. What�s really uncomfortable is being so close you both know you can both hear the gastric apocalypse going on in there after two packs of river-water cooked Vindaloo Super Noodles. And a pudding. Cue the dilemma: make a joke, or maintain a heavy silence�woyoooiiiiiing�
9 A decreased awareness of the destructive properties of fire
Me hungry. Stove make din-dins. Rain wet. Porch dry. Me move stove into porch. Me go back inside. Tent start to make funny smell. Me no like funny smell. Me go see what wrong. Porch no dry any more. Roy go crayzeee. Say bad words. Say me do baaad thing. Me no allowed near stove any more�
It�s strangely comforting to seal your only piece of dry apparel left in a Asda bag, lovingly locating it to the geographical centre of your pack as if it were some archaeological treasure, a piece of the dry world back home you treasure like a wallet picture of a loved one. Cue the crushing, crushing feeling when you find out your Kia Ora has exploded all over it. Why, world, why?