A quick exercise for anyone who knows me well.
Think of my personality, think of the kind of things I like doing and see if you can guess how I might choose to spend a four day holiday?
Got it? Right, now, hands up who said came up with Walking Holiday? Fuck off, you’re out of here.
And yet, that’s just what I’ll be doing come this Saturday. Don’t. Ask. Me. Why.
It was the lure of the campfire that did it. I bloody joined Brownies as a kid to get the campfire experience and had to learn the hard way that “camping” for the Brownies involves sleeping overnight in a big hall. Wiiiild. Only when I accompanied my brother and Scout-leader father on Scout camp (shut up) did I learn the true joy of damper on sticks, spotlight in the woods and getting gang-raped by 20 sexually-starved 15-year-olds with whom I was sharing a dorm… no wait, that last part might not have happened.
Anyway, once again I’ve allowed my love for a good campfire to get the better of me. In my head it’s all mulled wine, marshmallows and drunkenly trying to remember the words to “Vincent” for a sing-along. In reality it’s sludging through the bush for 20kms to collapse in a heap at the end of the day and spent the entire night peeling ticks off my legs and the legs of my friends. When sleep beckons I retire to a 2/3 man tent inhabited by 3 people where, if I hum quietly to myself I might not hear the deadly chirp of killer insects just outside the fly.
And yet… I’m quite looking forward to it. And it’s not JUST the campfire, honest: it’s the flipping preparation. There are meals to be planned! Bags to be packed! Checklists to be checked! There is an Akubra hat to borrow off someone, sneakers with which I will reacquaint myself and a pair of waist-high blue shorts to ease myself into!
Best of all there is all the joy to be had of telling friends about this trip and seeing their faces pucker up with confusion… disbelief and, finally, concern for my well-being. And so they should be concerned: If I’m not eaten by a wild koala it’ll be a bloody miracle. Readers, should I not return, please, tell the people my story.
4 comments:
Gold. I used to be a boy scout. No gang rapes happened in our troop but. Not that I was involved in, anyway...
Oh yeah we were in the next dorm room over. What a rort brownies was, though: the only life skill I ever acquired there was learning never to wear brown and yellow together.
you do realise don't you that campfires are totally banned. but those high-waisted shorts are pretty awesome. and i have 3 sizes of zip-lock bags if you need some.
OMFG. No MF-ing campfires? FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWK it's bloody Brownies all over again...
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