Tuesday, 20 September 2005

Sundy and a bit of Monday

Have you seen those big wire mesh bags that can be bought in camping shops? They are designed to put rucksacks in so that they can be chained securely to lamp posts and the like thus freeing the traveller to wonder off to take photographs and drink too much of the local brew. I had always rather frowned on such things deeming them to be of no more use than to alert potential thieves to the fact that you have something worth stealing. Anyway a friend of mine gave me his and I hated to say that I thought him stupid for having it so wound up taking it. I started off just using it when I wanted to go running. I could secure my pack to a tree, cover it with branches and run off happy in the knowledge that my stuff would still be there when I return. It is of course vitally important that one remembers where to return too. On Sunday morning I ventured to leave my sleeping bag and a few other vital bits of equipment into a waterproof bag which I then locked to a tree. Hypocritical I know but I have to say that there is some merit to this chicken wire thing after all.

Sunday was spent introducing a visiting professor from Bellarus, Julia, to the finer points of British culture, Roast Dinner, music, Pooh sticks and beer aplenty at the Turf Tavern seemed to be an itinerary that covered pretty much all of it. I chose music that I consider to be quintessentially British.
"What is a Wurzle?" asked Julia and I have to admit that I was stumped for a minute.
The thing not to do if you lock your sleeping bag to a tree is to loose the key, that would be most unfortunate. The night was spent sleeping with all my clothes on and the Gore Tex sheet alternatively put over me to create a pool of warm air around me, or underneath to stop the cold ground sapping so much heat.
I awoke early and ran to the bus with my rucksack, minus sleeping bag of course, only to discover that I had lost my ticket and had no money. Fortunately this minor challenge was overcome and I was soon warming up and enjoying Danish. The reason for the rush was that I had to get down to Sussex for a sale there and had to meet Yolanda who was giving me a lift. Yolanda was waiting in the car and claimed that the boot would not open. I opened the boot with a look that apparently questioned her sanity threw in my rucksack with it’s supply of clean socks and shut it again. Try as I might I could not coax it into opening again for a good 12 hours in fact I have to admit that it was Yolanda who eventualy opened it and she was sure to give me a withering look when she succeeded. In the mean time though we somehow got to Sussex despite Yolanda’s best efforts to drive into oncoming traffic. When I got to Sussex I discovered that I had left my shoes in my Office in London and had to phone some up to bring them down with them. I was fairly convinced that big muddy boots would not be a good look with a suit. When the shoes arrived I was happy to discover that I was wearing white socks, not exactly ideal.
Got to go, lunch break over and there is a rumour that I’m supposed to do some work this afternoon.

1 comment:

SameOld said...

Have you not yet constructed a rudimentary shelter, Mr. Monkey? I would have thought you would at least need some protection from amorous badgers at night? Maybe it's difficult where you are...

IMO there's a real lack of land in England where you can extreme camp; e.g. light fires and make shelters. I'm talking about doing it properly; not just going out with your mates to drink beer, get mashed and set cars on fire. We NEED land reform!