27 August 2010 (Friday) -
Off to Camp
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Sometimes it bothers me how disorganised we are at
Bat-Camp compared to how slick we are when setting up for kite festivals.
Despite having delivered a car full of stuff to the farm yesterday, this
morning the car was overflowing with yet more stuff to go to the farm. Martin
and “Daddies Little Angel TM ” arrived at 9am with more
luggage (and guinea pigs) and by the time we’d been to Asda for the
makings of lunch there was hardly any space in the car at all. And we still
had to fit Tony and his gear in. When we arrived to get Tony I was expecting
to tell him there was no room at the inn, and he’d have to walk. But totally
out of the blue a wasp appeared from nowhere and stung me in the neck. Tony
applied Savlon, and so we made space for him (somehow). We arrived at the farm (with a throbbing neck) and
having excavated the passengers out from underneath all the luggage, we
loaded a tractor trailer with said luggage and made our way to camp. We got
the guinea pigs into their home for the weekend and then a few minutes were
spent fiddling about laying out sleeping bags, finding jim-jams and torches
and sundry boring but necessary tasks. It’s so easy not to do these jobs but
do “fun” instead, and then find yourself trying to find a sleeping bag
whilst rather drunk and in pitch blackness at 1am. (Been there, done that!).
Having set up “Green and Smelly” (the toilet) we washed our
hands at the tap (running water at camp – how posh!), and settled down
for lunch. |
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I looked around: “where’s the plates?” A quick
search revealed they weren’t on the camp site. A quick trip to the farm house
revealed they weren’t on the farm at all. And then I remembered looking at
the box of plates and cups in our shed and thinking that I needed to pack it.
So I drove home quickly to get it whilst dinner was got ready. Whilst
shopping yesterday Batty had described what he wanted to do for our mid day scoff, and I must admit I don’t think I was
paying much attention at the time. But it was great – Halloumi is a kind of
cheese, and when it’s fried it goes really well in a sandwich with bacon and
tomatoes. And even better when you’ve a plate to eat it off (!) And then to the pond for a couple of hours fishing before With the arrival of ‘er
indoors TM , the “Rear Admiral” and the landlord,
dinner was served: a truly wonderful curry. Eleven of us had a treat. I was
very happy to do the washing up after a bit of tea that good. And then we sat
around chatting and drinking too much till too late…. |
28 August
2010 (Saturday) - Camping
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Early morning fishing is traditional (for
me) at Bat-Camp, and I was at the pond doing my thing by 6am. But (like
a twit) I’d forgotten to bring either my camera or my phone, so I have no
record of the first fish I caught today – the biggest fish I’ve ever caught
out of the Bat-Pond – a carp weighing three pounds. As carp go, that’s only
small stuff, but when you bear in mind that all the carp in that pond are
either those that I put in the pond as tiddlers over the last few years, or
fish bred from those tiddlers, I think that a three pound
carp is quite respectable. After a while the “Rear Admiral” joined me,
and we fished for a couple of hours, catching nearly a hundred fish between
us. |
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Back to camp for brekkie, and then we moved
the toilet tent. We’d put “Green and Smelly” close to our communal
cookhouse tent because the bigger tent acted as a windbreak. However because the toilet tent was so close, there was
little in the way of privacy; and some very odd noises were emerging. So for
the sake of everyone’s nerves (and decorum) we moved the loo a little
way away. And then we did something we’ve not done for ages - we got the bow snarrows out. Having spent a small fortune on archery
over the last few years, it’s become something we rarely seem to do any more; which is a shame. So with the arrival of Chippy
we spent a couple of hours taking pot shots at assorted targets, and “Yours
Truly” came second in the knock-out round. I didn’t gloat much (!) We
were reminded of the need for bracers as both Irene and the “Rear Admiral”
received quite nasty bruises on their forearms from the bow strings. I didn’t
point and laugh much (!) |
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“Daddies Little
Angel TM ” then did the bread and cheese for her
dad (good girl). Washed down with a bottle of old peculiar it was
lovely. Tina and Jason then arrived and came fishing with us for a bit, before
leaving us to fish whilst they took pot-shots with bow snarrows.
And then Molly, Trudy and Steve
arrived. Molly seemed to enjoy all the amazing smells of the farmyard, and
even found a new doggy treat. Before long fifteen of us (fourteen hoo-mans and one fellow blogger) sat down to dinner.
A new addition to the camping menu – pork and apple braise. Very good, and
much appreciated. Whilst the washing up was done, the
pyromaniac contingent made the camp fire and the rain started. I watched the
camp fire from the comfort of our cookhouse tent, and occasionally shouted
sage advice whilst listening to the sound of the rain thundering on the
tent’s roof. But the rain came and went as quickly as it was heavy. Within
half an hour the clouds were parting, and we all adjourned to the camp fire
where we saw off a few gallons of ale. Another Bat-Camp tradition is that
port is passed round the campfire circle so everyone
gets some. But sometimes the bottle is slow to move round
the circle. To remedy this, we opened another bottle. At one point there were
three bottles of port on the go, and once we’d cheered the International
Space Station as it came over we had a quick rendition of my party piece: “Foo-Foo
the Bunny Rabbit”. If any of my loyal readers have not yet experienced “Foo-Foo
the Bunny Rabbit”, in all its glory, they should consider themselves
fortunate. And then we chatted, told knob jokes, and generally stayed up far
too late drinking far too much; eventually falling into bed at 2.30am. |
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29 August 2010
(Sunday) - More Camping
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The trouble with
drinking ale by the gallon is that it has to go somewhere, and so at 6am I
was forming a queue for the tiddle tent. I chatted
for a bit with Molly’s Mum who was also up, and then I decided that since I
was up anyway, I might as well go fishing; sleep is for those in bed. The
fish were biting this morning; I was catching loads, but I was getting
peckish. I kept fishing until I’d had fifty, and then I wandered back to camp
at 8.30am. It would seem that I was unusual in being up and about after
having had far too much to drink. I gathered up those other brave souls who
were up and about and we all (me and the “Rear Admiral”) went back to
the pond for a bit more fishing whilst everyone else slept it off. We wound up having
brekkie at about 11am – and a good old-fashioned fry-up seemed to do most
people a world of good. We washed up, drank coffee, lazed around for a bit,
and all too soon it was time to say goodbye to those of our number who had to
go. So we loaded up all their bits onto the tractor trailer, and rode down to
the road where we loaded their cars and said our goodbyes. |
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The piscatorial
amongst us went to the pond to fish for a bit. By 2pm we were all feeling a
bit hungry, so I was dispatched to get lunch for my fellow haddock hunters.
And after lunch, ‘er indoors TM came up to the pond
and had a go at fishing, even going so far as to catch a tiddler. Not
unhooking it, or even touching it. Just catching it, and then catching
herself. As the afternoon wore
on Chris had to depart, taking the Folkestone contingent with him, and then
there were eight of us. As the weather took a turn for the worse, we all sat
in our communal cookhouse and resorted to the emergency fall-back plan used
whenever events conspire against us: have a crafty pint. There are those who
will say that I spent this time fast asleep. And I will admit that to the
uninitiated it probably looked like that. But it was most odd. I could hear
every word of the conversation, and also my own snoring too. |
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We had a late dinner
– fajitas are always popular, and always good. And then it was suggested that
the leftover mushrooms from brekkie might go well in fajitas, so we all had
seconds. And we all sat there feeling very stuffed. As the weather was
clearing up we walked down to the farmhouse to help put the baby ducklings to
bed. The ducklings seem to lead a pampered existence, and had to be tucked
into bed. Or that is tucked into bed once caught and cuddled. I would have
thought they would have put up a fuss, but they seemed quite happy to have
been held and stroked. Back to camp where
the “Wounded Archer’s Cookery Club” had prepared a treat. Those who had
sustained bruises from yesterday’s archery session had spent some time
gathering fruit from around the farm’s hedgerows and had prepared a
blackberry fool for everyone. Oh, that was soooooo
good!! And by this time it was dark: trying to wash up in the dark is a daft
thing to do, so we decided to leave it and have a camp fire instead. Compared
to the previous evening’s revelry, tonight’s camp fire was a modest affair,
but none the less enjoyable. We spent a very pleasant hour or so drinking
beer (and assorted fluids) whilst spotting shooting stars and
satellites, before going to bed before midnight (for once). |
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30 August
2010 (Monday) - Coming Home
There is an album of
photos from this camp that you can see by clicking here.
And there’s another
album here.