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.
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 (!)
“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.