Tuesday, 28 May 2013


"So, how was camp, ILB?"

Honestly? I can't really give you an answer.

I'd like to be able to, I really would. Camp has been an incredibly important part of my life since I was six. I've written about how to masturbate at camp, expounded on the lack of sexuality at our district camps, and regaled you all with a tale of sex almost immediately after I swore it wouldn't happen.

Is there anything I could say about camp that isn't there before? Of course there is. We always have interesting conversations at camp. I could tell you about the game of "either/or" we played, during which we all decided we'd rather be completely bald than resemble Cousin It (although we were divisive on different subjects, including whether or not to have sex with a gorilla. Long story). I could explain to you why we're now referring to a wank as a "6am Morrison". I could refer you, perhaps, to the liqueur that was so thick the mixers didn't penetrate it, or the cigars that were so well-presented everyone (except me) took one unquestioningly. I could tell you about the other Woodcraft group that acted, well, more like Woodcraft than us.

There's the issue with the wristbands and the most ridiculously-dressed security guards ever known to man. The nudity, the unblushing raucous laughter. The best lemon sorbet I've ever eaten. Piggyback races with Elfins riding DFs. Songs around the campfire with one line eliciting a good and hearty "ooh, matron!" after a saucy line. The look on the faces of the DFs at our usual shout of "ON THE TOILET!" during William Brown or our usual Cockney shout during Your Baby Has Gone Down The Plughole. My usual turn as Keeper of the Council Fire because I'm the only one that knows the words.

And then there's all my friends - both Robinson and Hairy Friend's older sister planning their impending weddings, comparing notes around the fire. Mane being more tanned and toned than I've ever seen him, and his younger brother still being as crazy as ever. Me returning to the tent in order to crawl into my sleeping bag and finding the young raver there, snuggled up with a blissful, angelic look on his face (sans giant teddy, alas).

I could even mention the marathon sex I had with my girlfriend in the hour or so before I left for camp on Friday.

But for all I could tell you about... I just can't answer that question. How was camp? I know how it was. Any superlative I could apply to it wouldn't really explain. I can't describe how camp feels to someone who hasn't experienced it for themselves. The look on an Elfin first-timer's face is one thing... a seasoned Kinsfolk like myself still experiencing the same highs isn't too different. In order to understand camp, you have to live it for yourself. And, unless you do, I can't really explain. But I can certainly try here:

How was camp, ILB?

Fucking beautiful.

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