Return of the Prodigal

As the Leeds Music Festival concluded it fell to me to go fetch the boy and two mates and all their camping paraphernalia, giving rise to two potential problems: problem 1, it’s a Nissan Juke and they are big lads with a big tent so it is prudent to remove all the stacked boot trays (and contents), and parcel shelf before I set off; problem 2, I don’t know exactly where I’m heading, and following the “pick up / drop off point” signs takes me in a ludicrous loop, two hours in a 5 mile queue, three-quarters of the way round Bramham Park to the wrong car park, before being redirected to complete the final quarter circuit and eventually locate them, sat in their chairs by the roadside; from then it was plain sailing as everything piled in  - tent, equipment, rucksacks, boys – relatively comfortably and the drive back was trouble free, dropping off the mates before reuniting mother and son, the return celebrated not by killing the fatted calf but by her baking a show-stopper cake for him.