Despite going to bed at gone three, the critter body clocks made no allowances and right on cue they congregated outside the cottage demanding sustenance. I was one of the fortunate few who had managed to sleep in a bed and wake without a hangover (although I suspected the lack of pain between the ears was due to not actually having sobered up) so set about the morning routine. The observant might notice in the picture of the sheep that the grass in the field is two tone. That's because in the low lying areas we had a frost, which made sleeping in cars very uncomfortable indeed.
Those that brought tents bottled it as the temprature plumetted so the cottage this morning was a mass of bodies who had sought soft furnishings to ease the discomfort of the oak floors. The majority woke up bright eyed a bushy tailed, with the help of inquisitive cold wet noses of Bernese Mountain Dogs, and once roused helped with the massive cleanup operation. Others sat amongst their makeshift beds with heads in hand praying for the torment to end and begging for sugary caffeine beverages.
They were not the only ones to have slept where they fell. Geisha was found snoring amongst the bark chippings, she didn't have a headache though.