Our Own Private Thunderstorm.

By this morning yesterday's winds seem to have dropped completely. As I drive to work the traffic is not bad at all. I think all the lorries must be off the road after getting turned over yesterday.

Never really thought about this thinking about sex seven times a day before but suppose its right. In fact seven is definitely on the low side. I decide I must start counting; it could be a whole new blog. I'm up to four already and I've only just got to work.

First I woke up next to the gorgeous L. Very tempting. I have time as I'm in the car today but she looks knackered, I let her rest.

Second and I wouldn't have given this a thought had I not been counting but there's that women on breakfast TV, the one who's not particularly attractive but has that through-a-hedge-backwards look that makes you think that she must have had one hell of an orgasm that morning, possibly seconds before she came on set.

Three, as I stop at a pedestrian crossing and a young girl walks across, I try and guess what (or who) would set off her five thoughts for the day and what those thoughts would be.

Four. Stop for petrol and as I watch the girl opposite filling up her car, I realise now that trying to count now that I'm aware I'm trying to count is impossible.

Relief to get to work. L says she had a great time running with the dog in the remains of the woodland around Martins Pond. They had to crawl under some trees and over others. All sounds like quite an assault course and of course Doggo would have had to spray up every tree/bush thing that had come down.

Went to Sainsbury's for some shopping and some lunch. Lunch wise it was a disaster. They had no sandwiches. Apparently the lorries could not get through due to the extreme weather. I had to make do with Chinese spring rolls and chicken pakoras that were reduced in price. Nice but not healthy.

In the queue at the checkout in front of me was a lad who was obviously planning a wild night. I didn't wish to be nosey but he was buying eight packs of mints, a pot noodle, a cheesecake, two snickers bars, a bottle of vodka and a three pack of condoms. Quite a seduction kit.

The checkout girl stopped him dead in his tracks when she asked him if he had any id. From the look on his face he was thinking what I was thinking - the condoms! Then it dawned on him, the vodka. He did have id, turned out he was 20 but didn't look it.

What's worrying for the girl he's planning on seducing this weekend is why does he need eight packs of mints. Is his breath that bad? Suppose that's why he only went for a three pack of condoms.

Drive home. Hurriedly pack car. We have to practically crowbar Daughter away from the TV. The next gap in her TV schedule is 7.30; we need to be away by 6.00.

Once we have dropped the kids off at their father's, we tear up the M6 to the Lake District. This is a routine we used to go through once a month September through May each year but the kid's social lives and their unpredictable father have meant it's been 15 months since we last did this.

We arrive at out usual haunt, the campsite at Great Langdale and thrown up the tent in a howling gale, it's 9.20. A personal best. We are in the bar of the Old Dungeon Ghyll for 9.45. Hawkshead Red 4.1%, Yates Bitter 3.7% and Old Peculiar 5.6%. Excellent stuff.

Regrettably the bar closes at 11.00 and we go back to the tent for coffee and dark chocolate. The wind seems to be getting stronger and is soon ominously battering against the sides of tent. It's also starts raining quite heavily. It all adds to the romance of the situation. Rain. Wind. Under canvas. We couldn't have picked a more perfect setting. It's our own private thunderstorm.

L's strips down to her vest which hopefully means that my seduction technique is working. It is, despite the late hour, we indulge in some tumultuous sex and there's no need to worry about disturbing any of the other campers as the wind and the rain will surely drown us out. Then again I'm sure every couple on the campsite will be doing the same thing.