A childhood memory that I have somewhat mixed feelings about is that of the time I went on "school camp". That is to say, when a reasonably sized group of us kids (in Year 6 at the time) were taken to a campsite on the edge of the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire, and then proceeded to spend five days living under canvas.
On the whole, it's a mostly fond memory. I enjoyed camping both on this occasion and on the few weekend-long Cub Scout camps I attended while I was a member of that organisation. But there are a few things about it that I'm less than thrilled to have firmly lodged in my long-term memory. I thought today I'd talk a bit about both sides of the experience.
First, the good: we took part in a lot of really fun, interesting activities on the camp, and had the opportunity to mingle with a few other schools who were also in attendance at the time. Naturally, it didn't take long for talk to turn to who "fancied" who — as I recall, a girl named Taymar from one of these other schools was rather popular among the boys from our school and, childish and inexperienced in matters of the heart as we were, it was always enormously exciting for any of us who got to do anything vaguely "physical" (get your mind out of the gutter, we were 11… actually, considering what I'm about to admit, never mind) with her.
To my eternal shame, I all-too-vividly recall excitedly telling my friend Matthew that I had "bummed" Taymar. I didn't really know what "bumming" generally referred to in common vernacular, and instead assumed it meant that, through some circumstance or another, you had touched bums with another person. And, indeed, on a sort of "assault course" (for kids) style scenario, I had indeed touched bums with Taymar when we were passing one another on a rope bridge, moving in opposite directions. That was the extent of the encounter. I don't think I ever actually spoke to her during the entire trip.
But anyway, I digress. Other highlights that didn't involve underage quasi-sexual activity were the time we did a… I forget how it was described, but something like "rope walkway"? We were blindfolded, and had to navigate our way through the forest by following a rope path that had been laid out for us. I remember finding this quite enjoyable and exciting; trying to picture the environments through which we were manoeuvring as kind of thrilling.
We also went bird-watching. As I recall, there were some forms of rare birds (hawks, I think?) who made their homes near the campsite, so we spent some time looking out for them, but mostly just staring at a cliff face with a few holes in it. The possibility of seeing a Rare Thing was quite exciting for us as kids, though.
Strangely, one of my most vivid memories of school camp is one lunchtime, when we were being issued our packed lunch for a day-long excursion into the forest. Our headteacher had a very particular way of talking, and to this day part of my long-term memory is taken up with the specific way he offered us "Cheese… and salad… or… luncheon meat… and salad" as our sandwich choices. Naturally, as children, we were all horrified at the prospect of a salad sandwich, but most of us were quite pleasantly surprised that it turned out to be tasty. I guess when it's all you've got, you learn to appreciate it.
Night-time was a frustrating time, as I recall. The tent I was sleeping in with the other boys included, among others, my aforementioned best friend Matthew, and a young man named Christopher who could politely be termed the "class clown". When it was time for lights out, he would not shut up. On the first night, he started making up a stupid song about what I believe was "Doyget Sands", a fictional girl that he claimed to love. For every single night thereafter, there was at least an hour of him lamenting how he couldn't be together with "his Doyget", or singing that infernal song again. We learned to just stay awake and tolerate his bollocks until he got bored, which he eventually would, and then we could all get a decent night's sleep.
My least favourite memory about school camp is the fact I didn't poo for a week. At the time, I had an absolute phobia of taking a shit anywhere other than the toilet in my own house, and with the campsite facilities being… fairly run-down, to put it politely, I was terrified that getting my bum out anywhere in the vicinity of those toilets would result in being immediately struck down with dysentery.
So I didn't. I just didn't poo. I needed to, sure, but I didn't. And I didn't tell anyone. But I knew. And I was mortified one day when, full of unevacuated poo and struggling to keep up with the rest of the group as a result, the aforementioned headteacher, presumably in an attempt to encourage me, noted that there was "only about half an hour of waddling to go". I was immediately concerned that he knew I was full of poo, though he didn't mention anything else.
When I got home, I found that I had successfully made myself constipated. I wasn't aware that this was something you could do deliberately, but I had apparently cracked it over the course of that week. And when, if you'll pardon the expression and the mental image, the floodgates eventually opened, it felt real good. From thereon, I figured I should probably try and get over my fear of pooing in places that weren't my own house.
So anyway, that's my memories of school camp. You can hopefully see why I have somewhat mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the whole, it's a time in my life I think back fondly on, with my only regret being that I didn't poo more. I would have probably enjoyed everything about the trip a lot more if I had just gone for a poo each evening.
There's your lesson for life for the day. Now I'm off for a poo.
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Your experience at school camp during primary is similar to mine, even though I’m an American. It’s probably because it has less to do with culture and more to do with being a person. Although some specifics are oddly similar, such as my tentmate (is that a word?), who also spoke openly and vividly, during lights out, about his fictional relationship. One of the worst parts about being there was not finding the time to use the bathroom, as the other students made a mockery of anyone who had to move their bowels, i.e., be a human in a bathroom. It was also not a clean environment.
While I don’t always read your posts, I’ve noticed that lately, it is more apparent that you’ve been going through a hard time. I can’t say anything that’ll help practically, but know that these posts you put out are amusing at worst and thought-provoking at best.