The weather sucks, the site is a pool of mud, my wife may have to go rescue a friend of ours tomorrow, there’s apparently plague in the land, and somebody apparently snuck around at night and stole things from merchants. …Yeah, that’s actually rare there. And I’m not even mentioning the temperature. August in Slippery Rock is always miserable, although the constant hail seems to have helped there this year.
Not the best War.
Sounds like a budding writer needs to write a new song about the travails of attending Pennsic.
Reminds me of Patrick F. McManus describing camping as “a fine and pleasant misery”.