Two years on.

Two years ago

One year ago, Friend and I, a pizza eaten in memory of the great Pizza Eater, talking through the events of that week; a quiet celebrate and mourn.

And this year? A field of Guides, friends who knew Goldie, but no real remembrance, no acknowledgement of the day. My fault I'm sure, if blame there is; I don't expect others to keep track of my life. But just for now, I seem to be washed up on a small stony island whilst swift waters of life run past on either side. Camp jokes about burns and coffins and accidents hugely unfunny, but any negative reaction inappropriate too.

A goodIsh day, setting aside the minor issue of this anniversary. No special significance except perhaps to me. Is there an offivially designated mourning period? Am I supposed to be over this by now?

Tia

Bubbles

Hay box cooking

Take one large dixie and fill it with browned chicken and onions,
chopped carrots, stock and soup and seasonings. Make sure it is full
to the brim and bring it to a rollicking boil on a wood fire.

Line a tea chest with newspaper, bubblewrap, anything else old and
insulatory. Add a layer of hay. Put the dixie into the chest and pack
around with more hay, newspaper, pillows, whatever you have to fill
the gaps. When absolutely full, fond something to use as a lid and
weight it down.

Spend several hours shouting at Guides who try to use the logs to burn
at lunchtime. If not doing this with Guides, this step may be safely
omitted.

Leave to mature for 4-8 hours.

Unpack tea chest with oohs and aahs from the Guides, and bring out a
dixie full of piping hot tender chicken stew.

Debate repeating process overnight for porridge but run out of steam.

Tia

That's better

Mog's wild ride.

Going against years of tradition, our big day out from camp was not
to somewhere outdoorsy, pretty, or historical. Instead we headed to
Paultons Park, swapping the thrills of wooding for rollercoasters and
highly packaged Fun.

Bacon rolls for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch and now I'm sitting in
a carpark as another leader picks up fish and chips for 28. Minimal
cooking today and fat-soaked newspaper to light the fire with tomorrow
morning. Suits me!

Oh and the pirate ship? Mog's highlight. Sleep through most of the day
but giggle through the ride. Repeat as often as you can find people to
ride with you.

Tia

Humph

Go go Grandad!

More wholesome traditional Guiding fun. Mock the men Pioneering. Dad likes pioneering. Dad likes wood, full stop. Give the man wood, an axe and a saw and a bunch of Guides or Scouts to train, and he's a very happy man. Give him a bunch of bigger wood, some rope, and a group of Guides or Scouts, and he's possibly even happier. Regulations don't allow him to create the death slides he used to produce when we were deemed too young to try them out, but monkey bridges and complex ladders, rafts and rope courses still get the next generation going.

Little Fish watched the Guides in silence, saving her admiration for the last person to cross. "Wow, Grandad, well done that is very very good. You a clever man, Grandad." The girls agreed.

Tia

Gadgetry

Something old - an evening meal cooked on a wood fire, a blackened kettle more soot than metal. A dustbin boiler, element buried in the fire and steamingly hot water ready for washing up once the food has been cooked.

Something borrowed - the dining shelter. Traditionally made, wooden ridge pole and big wooden pegs, an ageless design.

And something blue - 20 Girl Guides, none of whom feature in this photo as they've gone off to use the last of the daylight exploring the site with the rest of the leaders, leaving yours truly to mind the fire and two small sleeping girls. And to blog.

Woodsmoke and grass, soon to be supplemented with the gentle hiss of gas lanterns.
Peace
Tia

Something new(ish) - a washing up rack with draining board, no hours spent with knotting and lashing, just a couple of minutes and some rubber bands.