Wild things
II’m far from a gear freak, but I have a lot of it. Tucked under my bed, stashed in the cupboard, scattered throughout the garage, craftily hidden along the shore and bobbing in the harbour, is enough equipment to keep a couple of families warm, dry, entertained and adventuring.
It’s not fancy; in fact, the biggest part of my collection is the catalogue of crap. Examples abound: an almost 30-year-old synthetic sleeping bag used for
