So, it was a rainy April, about twelve miles from Hastings. Me and my family were camping on a farm with a few other families surrounding, of course no camping trip is complete without the tradition of toasting your feet abound a gleaming hot fire in the middle of the night looking up at the stars. Whilst i was sleeping outside (toastie warm) I decided to lay down i fell asleep and so on.
The next morning i woke up and went to see what we had for breakfast. In contrast to the previous night being allowed to have a few sips of beer and having shmores around the fire the breakfast I had to look forward to was a baked potato... Now normally I am quite partial to a baked potato but the end result was literally eating a block of blackness and rockiness , this was because it was cooked in the centre of the fire. Kindly my friend ate it but almost instantly regretted it after. I don't blame him.