Pretty in tents.
Last week was a rollercoaster for the yurt and a learning experience for myself. We had about 5 minutes of deceptively decent weather during which Helen Abraham got some lovely photos and they went into this article in the Guardian. It was a bit of a hurried mocking up for the photos and despite looking lovely the yurt was by no means finished, no door latches, not even put up very straight, and despite a late night (maybe Thursday) of bashing in fence posts and roping down the crown, it was not very cleverly pinned down.
Throughout the second and third day the snow came. By day four it was drifting 2 feet deep in the gateways and up the back of the yurt. Friday and Saturday the weather gave us a vital break (see below) but on Sunday the wind came whipping along the valley, squeezing the yurt out of shape and knocking off a door. Yesterday the wind picked up some more and when I went last night the whole structure had slipped its moorings and jumped back on its platform, scattering crockery and Victoriana and leaving me battling in the wind and encroaching darkness to dismantle the whole thing.
There was no damage to anything but its dignity but by the time it actually opens I’m going to tie it down using every single eyelet, stake and fencepost I can find…
While this was going on we also had a party on. Against the odds we put up a 60 foot marquee and on Saturday night it was fully lit and dressed and catered and floored and staged and contained 120 people (of which more later).
Despite the storms we not only got the yurt in the papers (good PR, even if this honest little write up probably negates some of that) but cleared enough snow to get the marquee up and despite one more major casualty (our catering tent ended up getting mangled) I think we got away with it.
I apologise for the pun but I know some people who will appreciate it.
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