Dump the kids with chums. Their plan is, go across that field, turn right at the tree, cross another field, reach the river, and have fun. I approve. A river is a perfect accompaniment to a heatwave.
Four hours later, I think, I wonder where they are?
I go looking. It is damn hot out here. Probably over 30 degrees. Baking, in fact. I regret leaving my water in the car. Don't do that. Don't leave your water in the car then set out to walk across a very big field.
Or your hat. You need your hat, too.
Actually I may die before I reach the river.
I think I am smouldering.
Aha! The tree! It has shade. I pass out here for five minutes and consider drinking my own wee.
This is like the outback. That tree stump could be a sheep skull.
Just one more field. Is that an oasis? (I may be hallucinating.)
I am on the border of incineration by the time I find the river.
Apart from Shark who, out of her natural habitat of the river, resembles a particularly glum Eeyore, a Tiger (with hat, plenty of water, and a cheese sandwich) who says I deserve to keel over and die if I am stupid enough not to carry water, and a Squirrel who greets me with an excoriating comment when she sees me collapse with heat exhaustion, I can see only one problem.
I have to walk back.